


One story, different angles

by KeaLime



Category: Civilizationhumans, Geography (Anthropomorphic)
Genre: Gay Male Character, Multi, no I will not explain how 2 males have kids
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:54:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 44
Words: 37,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23465719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeaLime/pseuds/KeaLime
Summary: This mostly explores the lore of how Physical representations of countries would interact with the world and its humans. A lot of them are just conversions. basically all about Canada because I have favouritism problems.Feel free to request!
Relationships: Canada/Mexico (Anthropomorphic), Canada/Russia (Anthropomorphic), Canada/Ukraine (Anthropomorphic), France/United Kingdom (Anthropomorphic), Germany/Poland (Anthropomorphic), Mexico/United States (Anthropomorphic), Russia/United States (Anthropomorphic)
Comments: 41
Kudos: 57





	1. shell-shocked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm surprised I haven't found this idea anywhere else with how angst-driven this fandom is
> 
> who wants some RusAme, as realistic as possible, so their relationship will take three years to develop

Russia stared up at the stars, they weren’t terribly bright do to the lights that shone from the parade. Russia really didn't like Americans but they did know how to celebrate. His hood was pulled far over his head, he wouldn’t be caught dead at Fourth of July.  
This was not his first time visiting the U.S just to absorb the excitement, the pure nationalism was… a little much though. This was the first time he went to the big one, the one with the most people, the one with the most money thrown at it and the one that America himself would in charge.

Russia shuffled through the crowd, the lights were calming down slightly, signalling that the fireworks were going to start soon, he took another sip of his vodka. It was his favourite part.

Russia didn't know what drew him to fireworks so much, all he knows are that the best ones are always in America. Russia was looking for the best spot to watch when he heard a few familiar voices that grabbed his attention. He was surprised to find the area rather empty despite nothing stopping people from walking over.

“Oh, come on, the birthday boy himself should have the honours of lighting the first one,” a male voice came from the clearing. “No, no. it’s alright, go ahead,” Russia raised his eyebrows. There were two other people around the firework launcher, a man and a woman. “Oh, why not” the man tried to push the lighter into America’s hands. 

“If he doesn't want to, he doesn't want to, here let me.” The woman took the lighter out of his hand, she walked over to the launcher, kneeling down and lighting it up. Russia noticed a small hint of panic crossed America face, “I’m going to the bathroom” he sputtered out quickly before he jogged off, the two people shared a look. 

Russia interest was officially peaked, he quietly followed America into the building. He heard the first firework go off in the distance, he paused, Russia really did not want to miss the show, why should he even care about the American. The blue and red-eyed did not know what pushed him forward.

He wandered through the building for a few minutes before he heard heavy breathing coming from a small closet. Russia carefully opened the door, it was obviously America there, he was shaking slightly. Multiple more fireworks went off, Russia watched as America visibly flinched as each one went off, his sweat pouring off him.

Russia forgot that America didn't know he was there, “wow...“ was the only thing he thought to say, America whipped around, he stared at Russia “what ar-” his eyes focused on Russia’s face, he swore he could feel America’s eyes harden behind his glasses.

“Oh, it’s you,” Russia didn't say anything, “what the hell are you doing in my-” more fireworks, America flinched again, he looked like he was about to collapse under his weight. Russia couldn't help but smirk a little at trebling legs that were barely supporting his greatest enemy.

“What? no ‘Ruski?’ no inappropriate flirting? no back-handed compliments? to think that all my threatening did nothing, but a couple of pretty lights defeats the great Ameri-” he was shut up by America’s fist slamming into the wall beside him, cracks spreading through the dented concrete. 

The only sound in the small closet was America’s laboured breathing. Russia stared as his sunglasses slid down the Amerian’s face, revealing his right eye, closed and scared and the other eye, burning with anger and tears.

America folded around himself as the fireworks got more intense, “how long?” Russia asked as softly as he could, America looked at him questioningly “since world war two, I think that’s what caused it, it was probably a miracle nothing happened from world war one,” he answered quietly.

“Is there anything I can do?” America’s eye narrowed, “what are you playing at?” Russia groaned, “I’m trying to help, do I need to get Canada or UK-” “-NO! no” America looked down, “they… don’t know.” Russia sighed. “Come on” he grabbed the country’s wrist, leading him away, “where are we going?” America tripped up at more of the fireworks, “to find you a soundproof room.”

America let himself be led down the stairs, he did notice the lights getting the quieter. He relaxed a little as sounds completely ceased. He took in a deep breath and leaned against the wall, “thanks” Russia rolled his eyes “you really didn't think to get in a quieter place.” America got smaller, “I didn't want to run into anyone, I’d rather not explain to one of my citizens that their country can’t deal with fireworks.”

Russia looked annoyingly amused, “it doesn't help that so much of your culture is based around explosions” America was too tired to snap back in any way. “What? You want a hug or something?” America while tired, was still America, “sure, how low can I put my hands?” Russia hissed a “pervert” under his breath, causing he starry country to weakly chuckle.

“You probably should talk to someone about it, I’m pretty sure PTSD isn't fun when left untreated” America just stared up at Russia, “Ruski, we are a species of 200 that’s barely understood, no one would truly help with all the shit we’ve gone through.” 

America was rather unfazed by the look of surprise and slight horror on Russia’s face, to say that it was taboo to refer to countries like that, would be an understatement. “What?” he snapped at the taller, “where the hell is he?” the two countries turn to the voices at the top of the stairs. “Did you check the bathroom?” America groaned as he recognized the voices, “yeah, that was first.” Russia turned back to America with raised eyebrows, “Sara and Logan, friends of mine.”

Russia threw his hood back over his head, “I assume that they are looking for you?” America huffed a little “no they’re looking for you.” he was annoyed by the sarcasm that dripped off each word, “I liked you better when you were shell-shocked.”

The bickering was cut off by the other two descending the stairs when they did reach the bottom, America didn't know what to do. “hey! why are you down here?” he was practically saved by Sara suddenly noticing that Russia was there. 

“urm? Who are you?” Russia tried to look at America for help but he was too interested to see how he would respond. Logan seemed to recognize him, “wait, I know you, Russia, right? Why are you here?” Russia decided to address America, “how the hell did he” the shorter snorted. “Logan has an obsession, how do you think we met?” Logan flushed, “it’s not an obsession, I just find it interesting.”

“Though he brings up a good point Ruski, why are you here?” Russia took a good swig of the vodka, before continuing, “I… enjoy the fireworks” silence filled the room before America burst out laughing. “That’s adorable!” Russia looked like he was about ready to kill. Sara was definitely nervous “well then, Russia, sorry but the firework show is already over.”

Russia noticed America visibly deflate in relief, “I think we should get the birthday boy back to the party now.” Russia was a little disappointed he missed the fireworks but felt he watched something a lot more valuable.


	2. I'M BACK WITH THE CANANANANADA BITCHES

New France was an adventurer at heart, he had spent months nagging France to let him go out to explore the New World. He rode with les voyageurs normally, their trade routes went everywhere, he could find a canoe going anywhere. 

At first, the men were hesitant to let a small barely teenage boy on the long difficult trips but New France’s innate knowledge on the layout of the land and the waters, along with his ‘hunches’ on the weather made him an indispensable navigator despite his inability to help with cargo. When he started he had to fight tooth and nail to get them to let him on, even getting other groups to vouch for him. Now, he had built up enough of a reputation that most were more than willing to let him tag along. 

Since then they had found another used for him, his darker skin and hair made him a much-preferred tradesman for the natives, even with his french clothing and the spatter of freckles across his face making it clear he wasn't truly one of them. They showed no hesitancy to discuss such important matters with him despite the age he appeared to be, France had told him that ‘savages can always recognize a spirit when they see one.’ New France wondered if they thought he was one, one of those stories the elders would tell around the bonfires. 

Now they were back on the waters of St Lawrence, New France sitting comfortably on the front of the canoe. This part of the river was wider than most parts, the forested sides were barely visible as they paddled in the center of the water. He rose his head a little further into the air, sensing the slightest bit of rain in the air. 

“Felix!” New France turned as the guide of the group Jasper called his most recent faux name. “I know that look, something bad’s comin’ eh?” 

He took in another breath, almost tasting the air. “non, nothing terrible, just some rain…” his eyes stayed half-lidded for a moment. 

Jasper chuckled, “I don’t know why I’m even here, you’re making my job a little irrelevant.” 

“I have the build of an ash tree, your muscle is required,” he stated blankly. The boy always struggled to tear his eyes from water. 

“I still wonder about you, what are you looking for out here? I’ve been on more journeys than I can count and every time at least half the men have been on a trip with you, some fourteen-year-old with the gift of prophecy. What's your story?” New France’s eyes flickered across the area he sat, Jasper had blocked him in. 

“How long have you been waiting to ask me this…?” The other nervously smiled. 

“Since you asked to come with us… but you retire to your tent so early in the night and you appear to always be off on your own so I didn't get the chance until now, you make me curious~” He turned back to the ever-expansive blue, noting the few dark clouds gathering. 

“I’m not really ‘looking’ for anything for say just, exploration.” He shrugged. “The great wilderness, see how far the forest goes, see if the sky has an end…” He rambled for a second more. 

“And your parents are just… okay with this? You certainly don't dress like some poor orphan,” he mused. 

“I have a father back in France, he is yes of… a type of nobility and well, okay is a strong term but he understands.” He pulled his legs up to his chest, rubbing his gloved hands together trying to keep warm in the early spring. 

“Back in France? You’re really just some nobility brat with a thing for travel, that’s… a little disappointing, I won't lie to you.” Jasper sighed. 

New France snorted. “No one asked you to have expectations, what did you think I was? A cryptid immortal embodiment of this colony itself trying to explore the corners of their own land.” 

He blinked at him for a couple of seconds, processing what he had said. “That is… weirdly specific but, no?” Jasper shook his head before turning to take the paddle to give another voyageur a break. 

He let a relieved sigh, being allowed to turn his attention back to his thoughts, the rain beginning to fall gently on his face. 

Waves bashed against the wooden hull of the canoe, another strike of lighting thundering out from the inky black skies. New France gritted his teeth as he gripped the boat, trying to keep himself low. He squirted as aggressive winds whipped around him, he turned briefly back to the rest of the men as they tried to retain control against the waves, trying to direct it toward the shore. 

His eyes met Jasper’s again, he noticed surprise and panic that briefly overtook his facial expression, his mouth opened as if he was about to yell something. New France didn't get to hear it as the boat jolted to the side as another wave enveloped the front of the vessel. 

The colony felt his grip ripped from the wood, his body thrown like a ragdoll into the raging storm. Shocked rippled through his body as the icy water embraced him, his brain screamed at his arms to move but his body movements stilled in the freezing cold. His body sunk faster, his eyes stung, frost embedding itself into his straining muscles. His surrounding lit up temporarily as lighting struck again, bathing his sight in white for a single moment. 

His lungs began to ache, tears touched the edges of his eyes. He struggled for the surface again, holding a sob in his throat. His vision began to blur. New France came to a sudden realization, he was dying.

No, no, no! This wasn't how countries died, they went down fighting their greatest enemies, deciding death over surrendering. They fell to the hands of their people in revolution, overwhelmed by hundreds- 

His mouth wrenched open in an inaudible gasp as his back was hurled into a jagged rock, his leg getting crushed in between to large stones. Water forced its way into his lungs, his body aggressively hacking in an attempt to get the liquid out of his system. New France struggles weakened, his lungs burning in need. 

This wasn't how it happened, he was supposed to be overpowered by another undefeatable force, not drowned in his own river, choking on his own water or trapped in his own rocks. 

Another strong current slammed him back into the rocks again. His consciousness was retreating further inside himself, he gave one last struggle, tugging on his trapped foot, one last prayer to god. Finally going completely limp, his sight darkened almost entirely. 

This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. 

His body began to lose feeling, he didn't feel like he was slipping away as he expected, it was like he was disintegrating, his life seeping into the water and ground surrounding him. He almost felt relief as the pain and stinging cold fading from his mind, leaving him in extinguished silence. 

This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. 

New France gasped desperately in-breath, turning to his side as hacked water out of his lungs, each choking sob racking his entire body. He finally expelled the majority of the water. His full form trembled, he didn't know whether it was the exhaustion or the corpse-like cold that sat deep within his bones. 

His sight slowly returned to him, his hands clutched the cold muddy dirt below him. The noon sun shone high above him. New France stilled once again for a moment before he choked out a sob, he curled further on himself. Tears streamed down the side of his face. “P-p-pap-a…” he rasped out, his throat burning heavily. 

He didn't know how long he stayed on the bank, the waves gently lapping at his feet before he felt a hand rest on his upper arm, he could barely muster the energy to flinch, only whimpering quietly. 

He forced his eyes half open; a man kneeled beside him, his head turned away from the colony as he spoke a language that he couldn't understand to someone that New France couldn't see. 

The man’s arm suddenly slipped under him, hoisting him up into his arms. Panic shot through the colony’s spine, he tried to struggle despite his exhaustion, only managing to whimper again. The other glanced down at the terrified boy, he rubbed circles into his back in an attempt at comfort. 

A shiver overtook him as they entered the shade of the forest, he tried to learn into the warmth of the person holding him. Where was he going? He had resigned himself to his fate, he didn't have the energy to fight. Kidnapped just after drowning, maybe he’d be killed again only a day after his first brush with death. He didn't notice he was slipping again until he had already passed out. 

His mind felt groggy as he tried to process where he was, he was laid out on some type of fur. His eyes blinked open, not really seeing what was in front of him, he was still shivering intensely. He managed to push himself in a sitting position, his hands flew up to clutch his head as the world spun around him. 

New France squinted at his surroundings, he seemed to be in a kind of large tent, some furs hung out in the open, a couple of pots hanging out around the sides. His eyes trailed around to the opening, a flap was pulled back, revealing a younger girl staring at him. 

Their gaze met for a second in silence before she scampered off. He glanced down at his clothing, he had been changed into a long overlaying hide. It was at least dry even if the cold still felt etched deep into him. 

“You’re awake…” Another said as they entered the tent, their long dark hair braided into feathers near the end. They crouched beside New France. “What's your name?” Even at the sound of their voice, he couldn't tell if they were a man or a woman. 

He tilted his head to the side. “You can speak French?” He fiddled with his fingers, his body unconsciously leaning away from the other. 

The person chuckled. “Yes, I have learned.” 

“My… name is Felix-” New France added slowly, he paused as he met their eyes, bright purplish-blue. 

The other just sighed with a tired smile. “You’re real name… I know what you are, little one.” 

“N-nouvelle France,” he said quietly. “Your’s?” 

“I am the spirit of the Wendat people.” Their eyes lingered on him for a moment. “So the whiteskin’s colony has its own spirit now? Alas, I shouldn't be surprised…” They pondered to themself for a minute. 

“I’m… I’m not a spirit! I am a representative!” New France insisted, he had heard the hushed panicked whisperings of the few spiritual leaders that knew of them and he was not in any rush to prove them right. 

Wendat just smirked, leaning down to look him directly in the eyes. “And what’s really the difference between those two words, Nouvelle-?” They brought a hand to cup the colony’s cheek, their movements suddenly freezing. “Yah delah… you’re still chilled to the touch! Come let us feed and warm you around the cooking fire, then we will talk more.” 

New France leaned back as Wendat ran a comb through his hair, separating pieces to braid them. They Mulled over a suggestion in their mind. The boy had been with them for a little over a week, he had easily opened up after the first day or two, helping around the village, even beginning to understand parts of their language but They still could find him melancholily staring off in the distance. He seemed terrified of all types of bodies of water, doing anything to avoid them. 

“Nouvelle, how did you end up on that riverbank?” The colony tensed at the query. 

He didn't answer for a while, the tribe didn't push any further for the time. “I got caught in a storm, it knocked me off my boat and got trapped under the currents.” he trailed off. 

“And drowned?” They finished for him. New France gave a wavering sound of affirmation, crossing his arms to try and comfort himself. “And that's why you avoid water?” 

“I-I-I-” he stuttered as tried to find the words. 

“You don't have to tell me anymore…” they finished the braiding. “but I want to help you.” They stood up, taking the colony by the hand and leading him outside the longhouse he had been given to live in. They walked through the people going about their day, New France waving to a couple of kids he had befriended. 

They approached the edge of the forest, Wendat greeted a hunting group just as they returned from their trip. They didn't walk much further when they came across a large pond, almost perfectly circular. The colony felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise. “You know how to swim don't you?” the other asked. 

He nodded, his hand fidgeting with his cloak. Wendat took his hands, guiding him to remove a few layers of clothing until only his loincloth remanded. He watched the tribe slip into the water, gesturing for New France to follow. He approached hesitantly, sliding in up to his calf, a shiver running through him, whether in fear or cold he didn't know. 

He sucked in a breath, shoving himself out. The water encased him up to his shoulders, panic blooming in his chest, he squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to quell it. New France immediately tried to get out again before Wendat wrapped their arms around his chest, jolting him back closer to the center. “Shh, shh, I’ve got you, you’re safe~” 

“Let me go… please.” He pleaded quietly. 

The tribe paused, trying to think of a way to calm the boy. “Hey~ no, it’s alright. Tell me about Europe?” 

“I-ah I-” He stuttered, shaking his head, still struggling. Wendat sighed, letting the boy break free and push himself upon the shore. He curled up, pulling his legs into his chest. 

They sighed as they swam closer. “Nouvelle, I’m sorry. Did you… not like water before this?” 

New France glanced at him before looking away again. “Non, nothing like that… I love water- loved, I guess but-” He rubbed the side and back of his neck. 

“It really affected you that much?” They asked softly. 

The colony curled further upon himself. “I want to see my p-papa again.” He sounded like was on the edge of tears. 

“You should have told me sooner!” The tribe hoisted themself out of the pood. “I could take you back if you really don't like it here, I’d be no trouble.” 

He shook his head. “It’s not that, it’s great here. But, I want to explore again, I have fun, it’s… like a pull to go out to find the edges of the world.” A few tears slipped out. “But I’m afraid, I’m just so terrified. Every time I think of going out again I can feel nothing but anxiety and that burning in my lungs, I feel like I’m being pulled apart in two different directions and no matter what I do I’ll be in pain.” 

Wendat pulled New France closer. “Maybe you just need a middle ground, would your father ever consider coming with you on your journeys? Or maybe a travel friend?” 

“I would never drag some human into what I'm doing and my father is much too busy.” He shook his head again. “Maybe I should just go back to a town I see where I can go from there.” 

The other sighed. “Alright then, I can help you with that, I know where the closest one is and Nouvelle…” They place a hand on his shoulder. “You’re always welcome to stay with me if you need to.” 

The colony pushed forward, wrapping his arms around their waist and burying his face in their chest. “Thank you, Wendat.” 

They paused before gently resting their hands on his back.


	3. merde alors

Canada walked off stage a little annoyed, Quebec had tried to bring her independence in the middle of an interview. He was glad to have Ontario shut her down. He sighed before approaching La belle province   
“Do we need to talk?” Quebec turned to the taller, “je ne sais pas, you seemed to avoid it pretty intensely” she hissed at him. “I just think we shouldn't have that conversation in front of a crowd.” Quebec looked like she was trying to keep her voice quiet, “Pourquoi? You think they’ll see you badly, Canada” the brunette looked a little hurt. Her voice was sharp, purposely trying to hurt him. “No, it's not that and you know that, please tell that by this point you know why I can't let you hav-” “NO!” Quebec interrupted “I DON’T DAMN UNDERSTAND WHY YOU CAN’T JUST LET ME GO!” Canada took a few steps back in surprise. “Mon fille, we have gone over this” this made Quebec even more frustrated “OUI, you have lectured me OVER and OVER again,” Quebec pulled a stereotypical Canadian accent “oh, Quebec you cant be on your own, you don’t have a good enough economy, you’re in the middle of the country, EH” Quebec put a little too much weight on the word. “And then you pull that vraiment guilt trip with your “but you’ll leave New Brunswick all alone!”   
Quebec was absorbed by anger “I’m not like le autre provinces, I am the only province that truly speaks french” Canada tried to get some control back. “Northwest-” the french province whipped to her father in anger, “Northwest has fifty official languages, that barely counts.” Canada put a hand on his daughter’s shoulder, a little too tight. “Canada doesn’t even have one culture, the french-Canadians are just another one!” Quebec grabbed her father’s hand off her shoulder, “maybe if you actually to stopped the complete removal of french culture, you would have one!” the country pulled his hand back. “I did EVERYTHING In order to keep my french culture alive, the reason why there are only two french colonies because I opened these areas to continue the french teachings!” the quiet was incredibly loud “they would have been diluted in English, Scottish and Irish people-” “well, maybe if you tried a little harder Acadia would still be here!” Quebec waited for her father’s response, she realizes what she said when it didn't come.   
Quebec looked to her country’s face, his head was hung low, his face was grief-stricken, his arms were wrapped around himself. He looked on the brink of tears.  
“Papa, Je-” she felt herself being shoved to the side as Ontario pushed past to get to his father. Her brother wrapped an arm around him. “Fi-ne, do what- you wan-t” the brunette’s voice was shaky and quiet as he told her this. Ontario shot his sister a glared that could kill before leading Canada away. There was one thought going through her head, merde, merde alors, merde alors. She had gotten cared away, sh-she didn't mean to go that far, she didn't even believe that. The maple province turned to her siblings, they were all either avoiding her gaze or staring daggers into her.   
Quebec ran to an isolated area before pulling out her phone and dialling a number and putting it to her ear.  
“Yo, Quebec, what’s up”  
“Oncle Amerique, Je fucked up.”


	4. merde alors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ontario a stressed boi and Canada's a good dad

Ontario shuffled the papers around in his arms as he made his way to the breakroom, he naturally walked over to a table with a couple of work friends. He was quickly working through the shack, he had offered to help Nunavut come up with ideas for a more concise way for the exploration of the giant territory. The question of whether we should try and make the Inuit feel closer to the rest of the country or not was something that no one knew how to breach, they felt less Canadian then the french.   
“Dude, you planning on eating or” Ontario looked up from the papers at Matt, who was nibbling on a sandwich. “I will later” Matt reached over and snatched the pen from Ontario, “Tary you need a break.” another man took the pen him “Matt, he’s a decade younger and about five promotions above you, maybe you should bring your work to the break room,” Matt looked offended “he’s not a DECADE younger, he’s-” Matt paused “how old are you,” 149 “26” Matt stood up. “See he’s only 7 years younger.” The conversation changed as Ontario stopped paying attention.   
“I have 5 sidings” Darren declared “how many you got.” “I only have one,” Amber said “two” Matt shrugged “what about you Tary” the other two turned to him “13-” Fuck, he wasn’t paying, his head shot up. Yeah, they were staring “there mostly half-sidings, we all share the same dad” they looked relieved, “wow your father got around-” “Darren, you don’t just say that.” Ontario swallowed his pride as hard as he could. His father stayed with his partners until their death, of course, he couldn’t say that. “Well, he still took his time to raise each of us.” By that point, his break was over.   
As Ontario felt his phone ringing in his pocket, he turned the corner. He pulled the phone from his pocket and put it to his ear.   
“Hey, Ontario” he smiled into the phone, “hey dad, do you need something?” Ontario shuffled along the wall. “Not exactly, Nuna told me about the extra work you took up, do… you have enough time to finish it?” Ontario cursed his sister, his dad always worried about him overworking himself, “yeah of course. You know me.” Ontario played with a question in his head before asking it. “Dad can you tell me about…” his father responded concerningly “about what?” “...my father…” he said in a practical whisper. Silence followed on the phone, “what brought this up?” he didn't want to tell dad that he slipped. “It came up in conversation” the dirty blonde heard a sigh from the other side of the phone, “Thomas was my first love, he broke down my defences faster than anyone that came after, of course, it was a couple months before my Independence so I was a little stressed. he was a metis, eh, a true Canadian. I still remember the excitement that ran across his face when we had Quebec, he always wanted children. I came home one day he told me his future was that I and he could get married under god’s law and that time he told me entirely in french, a language he didn't know how to speak before then. He questioned me endlessly about what you two would be like, not that I knew. When you were born on our anniversary. He was impossibly ecstatic to “raise Canada up.” He-” Ontario heard his father getting choked up on the side of the phone, the province himself was tearing up “I showed him m-y favourite parts of Cana-da and even as he left- me-*hic* I-I never had a reason to doubt him-” Ontario had heard this part of the story, Thomas had died in the birth of Acadia, taking the young boy with him.   
“Sorry, I don’t mean to ramble,” Canada said, finally composing himself, “no-” Ontario tried not to let on that he was crying “no, it’s alright. Do you miss him?” “  
“I miss all of them” Ontario didn't know how many lovers actually Canada had. “I wish I could have met the others.” the air was hung with both of their regrets, “I still don’t blame you for not telling me” Ontario quickly backtracked, he didn't even know how he would have reacted if his father would have tried to come out at that time, it was too long ago.


	5. totes Gay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I like Rusame and think this is the most realistic way it would happen
> 
> also, this is just a conversation

“Are you one hundred percent sure about this”   
“Yes!” Canada sipped on his Timmy coffee while he and his brother walked through the park on their monthly get together. “I’m telling you, bro” America took a long sip of his milkshake, “I haven’t seen anybody gayer, well, other than you. He’s totes closeted and I’m gonna prove it” Canada watched as snowflakes drifted softly to the ground, it was cold for a fall day. He suddenly understood what Meri said.  
“Wait, what are you planning?” the shorter country cracked his knuckles,  
“Imma go on the full flirt mode, get that bear falling at my feet” Canada shrugged, not really knowing what to add.  
“Russia’s a pretty homophobic country, eh? And if you’re right, do you like him, are you planning on dating him?”  
“Yeah” Meri paused to look at a dog across the street, “I don’t think he’s even out to himself, but still…” the US stopped for dramatic effect “I have never even seen him look at a woman!-”   
“Have you ever seen him look at a man” America tripped up a little.  
“Well no, but ya know” he tapped on his glasses “its like, he doesn’t like woman and he refused to even consider that he likes men, sooo…“ Canada didn't want to admit how much sense he was making.  
“He could be asexual, or demi, he’s not really that close to anybody” America took off his glasses and shot him a dirty look.  
“Why are ruining this for me!” he wined “I want my first boyfriend to be a challenge” Canada stared at his brother’s eyes, he had missed them.  
“Wait, your first?” America ran a hand through his blonde hair, “well, first BOYfriend, you know I‘ve had ALL da woman.” Canada laughed at the over dramatics.  
“Well conceiving a country where telling a kid that gay people exist could get you jail time that he likes men certainly would be a story” Canada played with his long brown hair, “but you never answered the question, do you like him?” America threw his arm over the back of his head. “I mean, I didn't know that I liked Mexico or Philipp, those relationships just kinda happened” Canada didn't like the sound of that, both of those relationships had ended terribly. The brunette turned his head to meet his brother’s eyes, he could swear that the white star is Meri’s blue eye was glowing with excitement.   
“Yeah” Canada sighed “you probably do have a chance.”


	6. merde alors pt. 2

Quebec sat back into the couch, fidgeting with her gloves. America came back in the room, handed her a coffee cup and sat down across from her, “so, what did you fudge up so bad that you had to come to little old me” Quebec leaned forward, “when you declared independence, did you ever regret how you did.“ The next thing came out even quieter, “or something you said to someone.” America his coffee on the table with a *click.* He looked like a switch had turned on serious mode.  
“Do I regret the vibe check I gave my dad, no. he was an abusive cunt in the 1700s, a country’s mental state is tied to their economy and if a superpower goes unopposed for too long it goes straight their head. I would have ended up like him if it wasn't Vietnams slap in the face. Dad had both these issues. But…” Quebec looked up him as he took a sip “mais…?” America sighed looking down, “but I was a bit of a jerk to maple when he sided with Britain-” “moi too.” America looked at her with interest.   
“What did ya say?” Quebec paused not wanting to admit that,  
“I told him that if he tried harder to preserve French culture that, that Acadia-ne-serait-pas-mort” Quebec forced out that last part, “Maple jr. you know I’m not good with french” Quebec opened her mouth to try and force it out in English when she was interrupted “but mort means died and you mentioned Acadia” the blonde sighed, before putting a hand on his niece’s arm, rubbing it gently “which means you really did fudge up” Quebec pulled her legs up to her chest and put her head in her hands. “Je sais, Je sais, I swear I don't believe it obviously, but I was angry and I felt like he wasn't listening to me and i-Je ne sais pas.”  
America sat down beside his niece, putting an arm around her. “Look, I get it, the question is what are you going to do about it?” Quebec leaned into her uncle “I don't- agh, why couldn't he be neglectful or something! then I could just cut him out completely and not care” Meri laughed out loud, “yeah maple cares a lot, it can be a little overwhelming“ Quebec picked up the coffee off the table “do you want my advice” a term that aunt Aussi had taught her came to mind “I didn't come here to fuck spiders.” That got another chuckle out of him “plan a day for two of you, quality father-daughter bonding time, apologize to him and explain yourself, make sure you two are alone. MouseMan is pretty forgiving but really make it up to him,” the taller paused as if thinking “you got any inside jokes?” Quebec thought about that “apparently I caused his maple cravings and he just got so used to chugging maple syrup that after I was born, he didn't stop”   
“That’s where that came from!” America exclaimed, “I swear I had a heart attack just watching him drink that much sugar.” Quebec laughed. America reached down and ruffled her hair, well best he could with the large headband that covered the majority of her head, he heaved a deep breath “look, Becky I can get carried away in arguments too, just never who you're talking to. As much as I’m here for independence and freedom and all that jazz. It's better if you two can come to an agreement then just straight separation.” America smirked “I mean, you are his maple syrup, Poutine and lacrosse. What would he be without you.” Quebec knew this was a joke, but it still made her feel important. Yup, she was going to bring this up next time the “whos the important province” argument came up.   
“Thanks, meri” Quebec stood up and started getting ready to leave, “it, means a lot.”


	7. Some playful times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some playful times

Canada’s body was tense as he was laced with worry. Worry for America as he lay sick in his bed but he was a strong Country and he had the states to care for him, he would survive. More worry for sa mère and father across the sea dealing with Europe in a downhill spiral, but they have dealt plagues and pandemics before, they would survive. Most worry for British Columbia, she was the only one to contract it so far and she barricaded herself in her house. Refusing to accept help from Alberta, Yukon or Northwest. Canada continued to provide help to his people and the people of his allies but the numbers continue to rise. He didn't know what to do.  
He couldn't even guess where it would come from next, Quebec had the most cases yet she doesn't have it. He stared at the map under him, just looking at it was making him angry  
“AGH!” Canada heard a thud and looked down at a cat. “Oh, I’m sorry moose” he bent and plucked the cat off the ground, babying him in his arms. The country fluffed the strangely thick brown as he purred. Canada found his bed, he sighed and laid down holding the large cat in arms. He slowly drifted into an uneasy sleep.  
Kanata pulled further into 13’s chest while the loud voices echoed through the house. “You do not own the entire St Lawrence river! A part of it is in New England!” France slammed her hands down on the table, “that does not mean tu peux juste use it freely!” Britain whipped around to her “well if you can't share a singular river then maybe we shouldn't stay together at all!” France recoiled in shock, “fine then” she hissed “Nouvelle France, viens ici!” Kanata whimpered a little bit, 13 rubbed his back slowly “shhh, it’s alright.” Kanata got up and moved toward his mother. Britain put a hand on the young colony chest, “I. will take care of the new world, I don't believe you have the means for a colony,” anger flared up on her face as she slapped his hand away and swooped the small brunette up. “well, I do have the means for a child!”  
Kanata looked over his mother’s shoulder to look at British America, his head just peeked around the corner. Kanata squeezed his eyes shut as he felt his mother leave the house and order a boat to leave as soon as possible. The child opened one of his eyes to see Britain looming over the two. “This isn't over France” and with that, he turned and walked away.  
America brought his bayonet down on another soldier, he had run out of bullets long ago. He didn't know an English word to describe how frustrated he was with this whole war, even if he had technically started it, maybe there was a french one. He heard a sound behind him, turning to bring his bayonet down on another, only to be shoved back by equal strength. He looked up to see a familiar face. Canada’s brown hair was now longer than his shoulders, his blue eyes had a golden fleur-de-lis in the center. His originally oversized beavertail hat now sat snuggly on his head.  
The French colony went for another hit before pausing, his face lost all anger. “Treize?” America lowered his gun. He couldn't help but grin, “if you forgot English, this is going to be a lot harder.” Canada snorted, “non, I can speak un petit peu.” Both colonies fell into silence, “I'd rather not fight you” the brunette looked down, “nous have to.” An idea came to America’s mind. He held his gun in a fighting stance, “un.” the other looked at him in confusion then realization, he smiled. “Two” America smirked “Trois.” The brothers ran at each other, the bayonets clashed against themselves. Was this play-fighting? Did this count as actual fighting? They didn't know and didn't care, it was an old game they played. Pretending to be their parents.   
“Can I ask something of you?” America hit his brother’s arm. “Oui?” Canada got him square on the back. “Is there a word in french for frustrated but more?” Nada pulled his hand back before it got stabbed, he raised an eyebrow “déçu?” America quickly jumped back, playing with the word “day-su? I like it.” He smacked his brother in the chest with the butt of his bayonet. Canada suddenly got a lucky hit and America's gun went flying. “HAH” Canada went to put his gun to the neck of the other, confident that he won, a little too confident. America tripped his brother and grabbed the gun from his hand. Laying a knee on his chest. The sound of a horn went off in the distance, signalling that the British had won. Both Americans chest heaved, then they laughed.  
Canada slowly opened his eyes and looked down, he sighed. “God moose, to think now I miss those times maintenant.”


	8. merde alors pt. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this chapter got really angsty really quickly

Quebec sat outside Canada’s door, having no idea what the hell she was supposed to say, “I’m sorry” like, yeah sure. She suddenly realized she hadn’t even apologized yet. She began to panic all over again, she still wanted a relationship with her father even if she wanted independence. He probably would end up being her biggest trade partner anyway-, no, no thinking like that. You are doing this as a daughter, not a province, not a future-country. “Are you planning on standing there like a siutitooq the entire time,” Quebec’s head snapped to the voice, vraiment, she forgot that Nunavut still lived with her father. Why shouldn't she live with her dad, why didn't Quebec expect this, Nunavut is 21, she looks 15ish as such she was still in high school, normal for a province.  
A smile spread across Nunavut’s face seeing the maple syrup in her hands, “toornaarsuk! you know a couple of my friends asked me to teach them Inuktitut, I think I’ll take them up on that offer” she turned to leave before adding “oh, and try not to make dad cry again.” Quebec visibly flinched, yeah dad probably thought she hated him. Her sister suddenly tossed her a pair of keys, Quebec was looking at a much more sincere smile now, the territory sighed “good luck” and with that, she was gone.   
This was it, she had no excuse to not, so just like that she unlocked the door and walked in. Canada’s house was large, 6 bedrooms. Each province got their own room thanks to this. It was in the northern part of Ottawa and had a large property, one that you would stop to admire.   
He approached her father’s room, he heard him shuffling around in his room. She paused, if she knocked on this door there would be no going back. She heaved a great sigh and knocked “p-papa, c'est-ce que je p-peux c-come in,” she paused “nous devons parler.” silence, cold cold silence. The kind that makes you want to cry for no real reason. Quebec had heard this silence before, in ww2. She was a nurse and chemicals had made her job demanded, yet she had heard this silence so often. Entering a war-torn field, only for that silence to let her know that her job was useless. She wished to join her father in the air or be a sniper like her brother. Maybe that’s why she was such an advocate for women’s rights.  
“Quebec?” Canada’s voice answered. it was rigid, but not cold. “O-oui.” the door in front of her slid open. There stood her father, had he always been this tall. “L-look, papa-” “oh, so now je suis dad” he growled, Quebec stepped back in shock “dad, I’m sorry, I didn't mean to-” he laughed humorlessly “didn't mean to what! Quebec you-” there were tears in Canada’s eyes now “you knew how much Acadia meant to me! how much Thomas meant to me and then you just-” he was trembling now, “you just threw it back in my face over a dumb argument we have had millions of time!” Quebec was staring at her feet. “you ar’ not th’ only” she mumbled, Canada blinked, “pardon.” the francophone met his eyes, “I said! “you’re not the only one!” she choked on, “dad I lost a father that day!” it was Quebec’s turn to cry.  
Canada stared at his daughter, at his oldest child, at his largest province as she wept silently, “Quebec I-I hadn’t even thought, you and Ontario must have, oh,  
maple I’m so sorry.” Somewhere in Quebec’s mind, she knew that she was in the wrong, she had brought it up as a weapon. But what was important right now was that her father was ready to just talk. she presented the bottle of maple syrup “here, best in the country, I was saving it for later.” Canada took into his hands, yup, this was quality stuff. “Thank you,” great the silence was back “and dad?” “oui, mon belle province.”  
“I really am sorry.”


	9. happy Canada day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> happy Canada day

Ukraine stretched out on the plane seat, trying to get comfortable. Yeah, Canada probably would upgrade him to first-class but it would be worth it to see his surprised face. The Country popped out his sketchbook and started doodling. His mind immediately went to Canada, he sketched out his face. How long had it been since they had seen each other? Ukraine placed a hand on the sweater beside him.   
Why the fuck is Canada so big! He was now on a bus, driving to Ottawa from Toronto airport. A 4-hour drive, yay. He looked out the window to see the forest passing by. Then the city started to emerge, Ukraine sighed “finally” he mumbled and began to get up. As the bus stopped he grabbed his bags and jumped off. Great now he just he to… “fuck” where does Canada live? He pulled out his phone. No, he wasn't going to call him this is going to be a surprise. “Aluu, you look like you could use some help,” Ukraine turned around, Nunavut stood there with a smug smile. “What are you doing here?” Nunavut walked over to him, pushed a pair of keys into his hands. “Down the street, take a left, it’s the biggest house you can’t miss it.” Ukraine stared at the red and yellow-eyed, a little dumbfounded. “Also, I’m going to the airport because I spend summer in my province” and just like that she got on the bus. “Thanks?”   
“Alright, here we go” Ukraine unlocked the door and walked in “Здравствуйте? Nada are you there?” no response “alright, he’s not home” he put his bags down. He walked through the house, “now, where would he be-” Ukraine’s thoughts were cut off as he tripped over something. “Oww~” the gold and blue-eyed looked up to see a large cat staring at him. Ukraine struggled up, “oh?” he patted the cat head, he seemed friendly enough. The country read the tagged collar “he named his cat ''moose"?'' the brown cat’s head immediately snapped up to his name. “Tell me, where's your daddy, come on, babyboy~.” and then he heard a snort begin him, Ukraine wished for death right then and there. He turned around and there stood Canada, with the most sincere smirk Ukraine had ever seen.  
Canada pulled him into a hug, “it's so good to see you.” Ukraine buried his head jacket, “yeah, it's been forever” his voice was muffled. They pulled apart and stared for a little bit, “so, how did you get in my house?” Ukraine choked, “I swear it’s not what it looks like,” he squeaked, “Nunavut gave me the keys.” Canada laughed, “you should have told me you were coming, I would have prepared a room” he shrugged “what? Did you really think I would miss your birthday” Canada smiled, “I’m so excited” Ukraine let him over to his suitcase, “I know your birthday is tomorrow, but I was hoping you could wear this.” he pulled out the red and white sweater. Canada wrapped the sweater around him after taking from his jacket. The high white collar lined with red, its chest had a red leaf in the center and red sleeves(I know you have seen bromance). “It’s perfect.”  
Canada approached the other country carefully, he ran his hands through his hair. “Nada~” Canada wrapped his arms around Ukraine’s waist pulling him closer, “it’s the last day of pride month eh?” Ukraine looked up, “oh, I’m sorry I couldn't be here to celebrate with you,” Canada’s face looked tense, “wel-ll y-you coul-d, w-we could- right now~” Ukraine’s eyes light up, and pulled up and gave him a peck on the lips. Canada chased after him pushing him into a deeper kiss. And off came the sweater he just put on.  
Canada was the first to wake up with Ukraine snuggled into his chest, the light streaming through the window, reminding him that he has to get up soon. Canada carefully made his way around the sleeping country, he got dressed and decided to throw on the sweater. He entered his kitchen and turn on the light, grabbed a couple of things and began making pancakes. When he had almost finished when Ukraine entered the room. “Oh, hey Uki-!?” Ukraine was still nude and Canada flushed hard, “d-dude!” Ukraine snickered and walked over “oh come on you seen me like this before,” Canada flipped the pancake, causing a little oil to hit Ukraine, “Ow!” he rolled his eyes and walked off to put on some clothes.  
By the time he had came back, the pancakes were done. Canada got to drowning his pancakes in syrup, they sat down to eat their breakfast as quiet took over. Canada looked up a little hesitantly, “Hey, don't you think we should start you know, openly dating,” Ukraine sighed, “I know but- we’re just so far away, and my people aren't the most tolerant and then there’s Russia we’re at each other throats and dating America’s brother would just-” Ukraine sputtered out, “hey hey, you’re not just Russia’s brother and I’m not just America’s brother” Canada laid his lips on Ukraine. “Fine I get, just think about it, please” Ukraine just nodded slowly, as they finish their breakfast in silence.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just an idea, if countries were just born on there independence, might continue this when America becomes an older brother ;)

It had just happened, they did it, Yorktown was won. It was nearly a week after they had negotiated surrender, Washington was staring out the window, the war had to end soon. Behind him, his door opened “your excellency, there has been a British ship sighted.” Washington nodded and followed him outside, they approached the shore. “What should we do?” He regarded the ship, there was one and it was small. “We wait.”   
And he did, after dismissing the man, he watched the ship dock on the sandy beach. The hull opened and a woman stepped out, by the way she was dressed she was very high nobility. The purple and red furs made him think she might be in line for the throne. Washington stared up at her eyes, were-were they the British flag?   
“Who are you? What are you doing here?” Washington felt her sized him up, “I am the British empire” Washington tightened his grip on his bayonet, why in the hell would she be here?! What were her fighting abilities? “And, lady Britain, what do I owe the pleasure?” she looked amused at how nervous she made him, “it’s not to fight, I can tell you that.” she took a deep breath and let out a low growling sound. “I can admit that I lost this war” Washington was taken aback, she just admitted that. “Is that all?” Britain glared at him. “No.” she continued to stare at him until he dropped his bayonet. “I assumed you know that ALL countries have a representative.”   
She raised her eyebrows at his silence, what was she getting at? Was she insinuating, that they weren’t a real country since they didn't have one? “Wow, I forgot how dense humans can be” she sighed “follow me.” Every part of Washington screamed at him to not trust her, she was the enemy. He ignored that and followed her into the ship, Britain walked to a door and opened it. Motioning him to walk in, Washington stepped into the room.   
He stared at the boy sleeping in the bed, he looked about 5-6 years old. His messy brown hair framed his pale face. Britain walked in behind him, “is that-” “America?” the boy began to stir, he got up. Washington watched him slowly open his eyes. He had a bright blue eye with a white star in the center, the other was a deep red. She turned to Washington “the damn rebel is your problem now,” she walked over to America and ruffled his hair. Washington couldn't help but feel protective of the small boy.   
“This war is going to end soon, anyway, I’d rather not deal with his constant rebellious phase and questions about ‘his land’” America attention was now on Washington as his mother continued “so show him around and keep him out of politics, I don't want him cranky when I come to pick him up when this ‘America Experiment’ of yours fails-” Washington nearly missed that last part, “you don't think we’re going to last?” Britain looked at him like he was an idiot “of course I don't think you’re goin-”   
America suddenly walked over to him, “are you George Washington?” he had a smile that stretched to both his eyes. “Yes. now both of you get out of my boat.” Washington was done with being condescended to by this empire but he had a few more questions. “How old is he?” Britain sighed loudly “did you forget when you declared independence? It’s been five years” he was about to ask another question when she continued “admit that this ‘country’ of yours fail as soon as things start going down, don't drag it out too much because I want him back as soon as possible.”   
Washington walked off the boat with a five-year-old in his arms and no idea what to do with him. He set him down on the grass, Washington watched his eyes light up, the boy looked back him “this is it, this is America right!” yeah, Washington would die this kid,  
“yes, yes it is”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes America's hair is dyed blonde and only Canada and Britain know
> 
> Gonna be honest since this is an AU anyway, Britain being a female just felt right


	11. do I just, go over there?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yeah, I had to continue this. America looked at Canada and was just like "must protect must protect must protect must protect"

America paced in front of Texas, California and New Mexico. “Just go ask, Britain probably isn't even there” America whipped around to face California “but what am I supposed to say ‘hey John, so this 4-year-old that an immortal asshat just dropped off is kinda my brother and since I’m his only border anyway, we may as well have a relationship’” New Mexico said this slowly “Si” this caused America to pause, “ya coold jus say ya want a Profesaional relationshap if ya gonna be a puss abut it” Califonia looked at Texas “can’t you at least speak English sometimes!?”  
America mailed a message letting the Prime Minister know he was coming, not knowing if he’d get there first, if he did then he’d tell the truth about just wanting to meet his brother, if the message got there first then he’d ‘accidentally’ run into him while getting an idea of what their allyship would be going forward.   
America walked through the streets of Ottawa, hiding he panic very well in his opinion. He found the parliament building, took a swig from a flask of liquid courage and walked in. He had, an idea of where to go before he finally ran into the man he was looking for, John a Macdonalds had to do a double-take when he saw him.  
“US sir? May I ask the reason for this unexpected visit” okay, plan A then “unexpected? I sent a message, I guess it must have gotten lost” John motioned him to continue, “I wanted to formally congratulate you on your independence, and I-uh” America shuffled around a little looking for the right words “um was hoping to-um meet-, ya know?.”  
John looked a little amused “Canada’s not exactly of the age to talk about politics, ya know,” a light embarrassed blush rushed across America face “y-yes of-of course, I just-” John chuckles lightly “alright, come one.” America sighed in relief. He led him out behind parliament to a small forest area, in front of it was a middle-aged woman he assumed was John's wife. “Where’s the little guy” she glanced at him and called out to the forest “Canada!” America turned to where she was looking.  
After a couple of moments, a small boy poked his head out of the bushes and ran over to John, holding up a small baby beaver “look, look! I’m going to call him Jacques!” Canada plopped the beaver on his beaver-tail hat, which America found a little ironic. “Wow, he looks a lot like me when I was younger” Canada suddenly noticed that he was there, he stared at him for a second before his face lit up. “Oh my gosh, you’re America, eh?” America smirked “oh so you have heard of me” he knelt to be at the boy’s level, “yeah! Mother told me all about you, she talks about you in a bad way for some reason, you sound awesome” USA chuckled again “does she know you think that?”   
Canada shook his head “no, I have a secret language that mother can’t understand.” America almost forgot that John was there until he spoke up “well I think we will give you some time alone.” America just nodded in response as they left. Canada put his hands up asking to be picked up. America hoisted him up into his arms, he looked around, “will I ever be as tall as you?” Before he could react, his brother reached up and grabbed the tinted glasses off his face.  
America stood there frozen as Canada fixed the glasses on his nose. Canada looked back at him grinning. His face dropped a little when he fixed on his left eye, his small hand traced the scar over his eye. “Why’s your eye like that?” oh god, yup yup, that didn't hurt at all, America took Canada’s hand softly “well, this happens sometimes when you’re a country, sometimes others countries have to go through you to get what they want, and you get hurt” Canada looked extremely scared, “w-will that happen to m-me?” he was shaking “no, no no no, no, you’re going to be alright” the small country’s eyes were watery “h-how can you be so s-sure” America gave him the most charismatic smile that he could muster,   
“Because I’ll be here to protect you, no matter what.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could totally turn this into an argument in between Britain and USA that would explain why America just goes "dibs" randomly during manifest destiny


	12. Come to bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yes, I see Germany as a girl, fight me.

Poland paced back and forth, continually checking the clock, 12:38 AM. “Niemcy~ come on, we have to go to bed” Germany sighed as she turned away from her computer, “I just have to get this done, go without me, I'll join you later” Germany turned back to her computer. Poland slowly ran his feathers down Germany’s back, causing her to shudder, closing her eyes desperately wanting to lean into the feeling, Poland wrapped his arms her neck, “I will drag you up to bed, we both know I can” Germany just shook her “fine, you asked for it” Poland covered Germany’s head with his wings, Germany groaned “Polen!” Poland smirked.   
“Fine! I’ll come, but let me save” the feathers slide off her eyes, she quickly saved and got up. Poland continued “and you’re getting 8 hours, you need a night of proper sleep, you haven’t had one in forever” Germany rubbed her eyes, “I haven’t had ‘a proper night of sleep’ since the day I was born.” Germany snuggled into Poland’s chest, as he wrapped wings around her, pulling the noirette closer, Germany couldn't help but smile.  
Germany slowly opened her eyes, she turned her head as smoothly as she can without disturbing Poland, she read the clock, 5:31 AM. she should get up, she wouldn’t want to fall behind, she felt awake enough with just a cup of coffee to help. Germany tried to get up, only to realize how strong of a grip Poland’s wings had on her.   
She continued to struggle. The embraced suddenly tightened as she heard Poland groaned “go back to sleep Niemcy, it’s too early” she tried and failed to slip out of the feathers, “Polen! Let me go!” Poland was too sleepy to notice the hint of panic in Germany’s voice. Anxiety began to take over as the waves of panic continue to hit her. She tried to push off Poland, hyperventilating. “Nein! nein nein, I can’t, no closer!” Poland was pulled out of his stupor, what was Germany blabbing about? He looked down, surprised to see the pure panic in Germany’s eyes, she seemed on the brink of tears. He immediately let go, folding his wings behind his back. She stumbled back, nearly falling off the bed. “Niemcy?” Germany held her arms as if stopping herself from splitting in half.   
Poland gently rubbed Germany back until she calmed down. When she finally came back to sanity, she didn't say anything, just got up and moved toward the doors. “Wait! Niemcy, What was that? I’m sorry, I didn't mean but-” he stuttered. Germany forced a smile “don't worry, you didn't know, it’s alright.” Poland got up and followed Germany, “you really should come back bed.” Germany paused, she turned back and sat down on the bed. “I don't think I can sleep after that though,” she said quietly. “Do you want to tell me about it”  
Germany didn't talk for a bit, “it’s just some pretty bad claustrophobia, I hate any kind small space or trapped feeling” Poland remembered how thoughtlessly he had decided to pin Germany down with his wings, he couldn't imagine scared she must have been. “I’m so sorry” Poland didn't know what else to say. He felt a hand on his shoulder, he naturally let himself be lent into her lap, “it’s alright” she said simply. She petted his head slowly, running her fingers through his white hair, he felt himself slipping into unconsciousness in the calm.  
Poland took in his surroundings, he was still in his bed, tucked under the covers. 7:13 AM, he then realizes that he was alone, he growled under his breath “Niemcy-” he carefully got up and continued downstairs. He sighed as he saw Germany working on the computer with a cup of coffee. He came up behind her “how long have you been up?” Germany barely acknowledged him, “I couldn't fall asleep after you did, so I decided to get some work done” Poland began lightly massaging Germany’s shoulder “that’s wasn't 8 hours, Niem” Germany raised her eyebrows.   
“Well, you didn't get 8 either.”


	13. You know nothing of the war outside, do you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some of Poland's time in the war

Poland was only about half-conscious, his muscles tense, he strained again at the ropes that attached him each of his arms to opposite walls, refusing to give up. He tried to stretch out his wings, they had been clipped for so long he forgot they feel like in any other position. Poland was startled by the sound of the basement door opening, his head shooting up. He let out a low growl seeing the third Reich descend the stairs, he hated that smug look that never seemed to leave his face, “what is it Polan? Are you not happy to see me?” Poland’s eyes narrowed “as if I’d eve-” he was cut quick slap across his face, “I didn't give you permission to speak, you gypsy freak,” Poland was about to snap back when a small voice caught them both by surprise “papa?”  
Poland’s eyes rested on the small child at the end of the room, her black hair made it easy to assume this was the monster’s child, “West? What are you doing down here?” the girl only shrugged in response. Third picked the girl with such delicateness that Poland didn't think he was capable of, West peeked over her father’s shoulder, making eye contact with Poland, “Papa! That man looks hurt, we should help!” he only sided-eyed him for a moment, “don't worry~ Papa will deal with him” he slowly stroked his daughter’s hair “what did I tell you about coming down here?” “sorry” he heard West mumble.  
Poland was thankful that the monster didn't come back, a couple of hours past when the door opened again, Poland held his breath, only to relaxed when a familiar small shape moved down the stairs, then another followed “are you sure about this West?” the voice of a young boy rang out in silence, “yes, I saw him down here and he looked hurt.”  
“But Papa said he was going to take care of it” the two paused at the end of the staircase “I just wanna make sure, East if it bothers you so much why don't you go be the lookout, tell me if papa is coming” East nodded and turned away. West steps echoed off the walls as she moved towards the area she was at before. She was right! He is still here! “H-hallo, who are you?” Poland looked up at the girl peeking around the corner, she was holding a glass of water.  
“I’m Polska” she viewed him with concerned eyes before moving closer, she placed the glass on the floor. “Is there anything I can do?” Poland thought about that, there had to be something, “can you reach in-between my wings” he unfolded them as far as he could, “and pull the clip.” West jumped up, Poland couldn't help but flinch as she dragged her hand down, searching until she came across the small metal clip. She yanked on it. Poland yelped as it came free, and again when she repeated the process on the other side.  
West backed up as Poland stretched and flapped his newly free wings, “thank you! Thank you so much.” West picked up the glass, then reached it to Poland “do you want some?” Poland nodded but remembered the unusable state of his hands, he pulled at the ropes. “Oh, um, here” she pushed the glass to his lips and slowly tipped it up, the water was impossibly refreshing, Poland didn't even know how long it had been since he had his last drank.   
“Thank-” “West! Papa is coming” West jumped up and followed East out of the basement, Poland sighed, how did someone so terrible have such kind children. He stretched out his wings once more, worrying that they would be clipped again. He heard the steps approach and he gave up those couple minutes of heaven.  
Poland could tell how the war was going based on how much blood he lost that day, he licked his lips, tasting the salty red. Thrid must have lost something big because Poland can barely see through the blood. At least the pain blocked out most of the yelling from him. Maybe should just listen to him, he knew that Czechoslovakia wasn't treated as badly as Poland was. He was proud of his people for never giving up, for the resistance fighters that kept going no matter what but a small part of him had some resentment for his people for causing him so much pain.  
“Mr. Polska?” Poland was pulled from his thoughts, “h-hey, West” she strolled over and pushed a wet cloth to his forehead, cleaning out the wounds. He did his best to hold back a pained hiss. “Are you okay, did he hurt you?” he moved the cloth to his back, “who? Papa? Of course not, He wouldn’t hurt anyone.” Poland stifled a laugh, he debated trying to explain that her father had done this to him. He looked back at this 10 year, yeah, there no way he was ruining her role model. “Do you know whats going on in the right now” West paused for a moment “not much, but Papa has been talking about someone new who joined, Amerika?” His head snapped up “Ameryka?”  
Hope spiked through Poland like a drug, he couldn't help but smile. If America was in the war it had to end soon.  
As the weeks wore on, Third got angrier and angrier and more and more aggressive. The twins were the only thing that made it bearable, West Germany was much more talkative and brave but she couldn't be swayed on her opinion of her father, East Germany was quieter and more cautious and very mature for his age. Poland got much more information out of him while he enjoyed his conversions with West more.  
He heard the steps coming down the stairs, he was surprised to see East on his own, he never saw East without his sister. His concern spiked when he saw tears in his eyes, “hey East, what’s going on?” he didn't say anything at first, just sat next to him. Poland wrapped a wing around him, East sunk into the warmth. “Papa’s the bad guy, isn't he” Poland was taken aback, “w-well I-I mean, uh” East started shaking, “he’s the bad guy and they’re coming, they’re going to punish him,” Poland didn't know how to respond, “and you want that, don't you. You can't wait for that but I can’t blame you, it would mean you get to get out of here because he did this to you” Poland couldn't speak, he just tightened he hold.  
“Why did you come to me about it? If you thought I was the enemy” East had calmed down slightly, “no one else would listen to me, not even West” Poland just nodded. The next thing he heard made his blood ran cold, “East. what. Are. You. Doing.” Third appeared out of the shadows, Poland instinctively covered East with his wing protectively. He grabbed Poland by the hair and pulled him away from his son, before quickly moving East behind himself.  
Third pushed his foot to Poland’s chest, continually adding pressure, “what have you been doing to him?!” Poland felt it like his arms were being ripped off, “s-stop, p-please, I-I!” his wings flapped desperately. “Dad, stop!” East jumped in front of him, Third stumbled back, “he didn't do anything, I came down here on my own” Poland looked up at East, Third stared in between the two, “East, go upstairs, then we’ll talk” East bit his lip a little “nein, I don't want you to hurt him.” Third just grabbed East by the arm and lead him upstairs.  
Poland was dreading, everything. He knew that Third would not let him off that easily and he feared for East, Poland waited, he didn't know how long he waited, Poland realized how much he relied on the twins to keep track of time. He noticed that he didn't hear the footsteps upstairs. It took him a while before he concluded that they left him here, Poland spent longer and longer asleep by the end of it he couldn't tell if it was a month or a year.  
The thunder of footsteps above drew his attention. Poland didn't have the energy to call for help, he merely waited for someone to find the basement. He watched someone descend the stairs. The hope he had dropped when he saw who it was.   
Soviet’s golden eye bore through Poland, he made a weak attempt to get away as Soviet approached, he cupped his hand under Poland’s chin, a couple of tears slide out of the smaller country’s eyes, “how long have you been here?” Poland’s voice came out broken and raspy “I-I d-don't kn-know.” He felt like he forgot how to speak. Soviet pulled out a small pocket knife, Poland’s eyes went wide “w-wait-!” The blade cut through the old rope. Poland collapsed to the ground, his other arm still supported by the rope. When the other rope snapped he tried to get to his feet, he had spent so long on his knees.  
He suddenly felt large hands supporting him, “do you think you can walk?” Poland shook his head, Soviet threw one of his arms over his shoulders, Poland looked up to him “why are you helping me? Aren't you and Third allies?” Soviet stared down at Poland,  
“You know nothing of the war outside, do you?”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, welcome to me balancing that the Third Reich is a bad person, but is a realistic bad person. I've head cannoned the fuck out of his past, so if ya want to hear let me know, I've also given him borderline personality disorder and clinical depression, that way he's so different from the Poland story, he actually being treated for it in this story.

Third hummed an old German tune while he added the finishing touches to his acrylic painting. He always had a particular interest in the northern lights and they were so much fun to paint. He removed his apron and walked into the kitchen, sighing in frustration noticing the lack of food. When was the last time Third went out, at least two weeks ago? He hated going out with a vengeance, he hated hiding his eyes, hiding his teeth, being away from his meds just incase had an episode and being around other people. Other people, they all knew him as the hermit that only came out twice a month. They threw strange looks every time he came out, Third could only imagine how they would react if they knew who he actually was.   
Third gulped down the four pills with a glass of water, he sighed looking in the mirror, running a hand through his black hair, he felt weirdly uncomfortable without his hat, his intense scarlet eyes surrounded by black felt out of place without it. His eyes, always reminding him of those mistakes he made, that symbol burn into his very soul. He held back the urge to smash the mirror. “Maybe I do need to go out.”  
Third passed a park on the way to the store, he looked to the sky and saw large clouds making their way toward them. The storm winds blew past him. Third hiked the small hill, relaxing against a tree. He took in the breeze imagining the waves crash against the shore each drop splashing down his cheek. Just one last push and Europe would be his, staring at across the water to his last enemy. The planes whipped over his head, planes that would be his victory. He took in the water that hit him as the wind picked up. Then the water stopped.  
He opened his eyes with a start, he must have dozed off. He heard the sound of rain thundering around him. He quickly fixed his sunglasses on to his face, noticing how dry he is. His eyes were drawn up to a young woman standing above him with an umbrella, “um, hallo?” he got up on to his feet, “oh, hey I notice you asleep here and I didn't want you to get stuck in the rain,” Third stood a little awkwardly, “ah, thank you” the young girl beamed, “here, I’ll walk you home! The name’s is Lina by the way.” Third just nodded.  
The walk home was silent, Third covered his mouth before saying “this is my apartment.” He went to unlock the door when a crack of lighting spit behind them, the rain and wind picked up hard. He looked back at Lina before sighing to himself, debating what to do. She walked you home, you have to let her in. You haven’t interacted with anyone other them your daughter or the casual retail worker in 80 years, you’re not letting her in. He looked back at Lina, who was starring at the rain, probably contemplating how she was going to get home. Third groaned internally.  
“Come on” she turned to him a little confusingly, he opened the door a little wider, “oh! Ah- thanks.” She closed the umbrella and walked in, he noticed how surprised she was. He closed the door behind him, he quickly grabbed her coat and umbrella and put them away. He covered his mouth again “you can wait here for the storm to blow over” she walked around the house “wow, I didn't think you would do this for me.”  
He looked to her, smirking a little “oh? Why’s that?” she stumbled a little “oh well- I’ve seen you around and you’ve always avoided contact, so I assumed-” yeah, that makes sense, “not everyone is a people person.” the next hour pasted rather silently. He noticed that she keep stealing glances at him. The thundering rain slowly calmed down.   
“Hey~” Third knew that tone “look this is a bit awkward but I noticed you haven’t taken off your sunglasses and you keep covering your mouth, is there something about that?” Third sighed “I have some ‘issues’ with my face, a couple of deformities-” deformities?! He had never described his teeth or eyes like but it was the truth, wasn't it? “Ahh~ I get that… can I see?” Third rubbed his face, just show the naive idiot you let into your house your teeth Third, then you never have to see her again. He bared his teeth a little. He could hear her breath momentarily catch in her throat, “what-? how- wat-?” Third’s voice became condescendingly chirpy “oh well, looky that, the rain is gone, you can go home now”  
Third Basically shoved Lina out of his house, “well, I had fun, we should hang out again sometime- um, I never got your name” he casually closed the door “that’s nice~” he collapsed on his couch, that was enough social interaction for the next century. He groaned as realized that he still didn't have any food.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes this is current day


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> boy, do I love me some sibling relationships

Edward stared up at the area where he was supposed to put the Canadian flag, “Nuna, Bec, can you come over here and help me” his two sisters turned to him “aw~ c’est-se que little Ed having some trouble” Nunavut snorted a little before suddenly picking up Edward and holding him to the area. Ed flushed in embarrassment, he finished his task and turned to Nunavut after being put down, “you know that’s not what I meant” “yup!”   
Alberta slapped down a hand, “I still think we should be able to put our own flags up, we are Canada!” Saskatchewan put his hand on Alberta’s shoulder “Al, sit down, we’re celebrating dad’s birthday, not ours” New Brunswick called from across the yard where he was setting up the snack table “besides, you weren’t even apart of Canada during the first confederation, so it would be only my flag, Nova Scotia’s, Ontario’s and Quebec’s. Al sighed “I hope uncle Ame brings the states, I miss Texas” Saskatchewan rolled his eyes “to do what, fuck?”   
Ontario walked out of the house and just heard what he said “no-no, that’s Alabama,” Saskatchewan groaned “what’s the difference, Ame needs to unite at least half of states” Labrador was doodling on the other side of the picnic table, “twenty-five is still too many, he stood have stuck with the original thirteen. Quebec rolled her eyes, “Says you, you’re not even a real province, we were supposed thirteen Not fourteen,” Labrador stood up angrily, “I am equally as ‘Newfoundland and Labrador’ as Newfoundland is!” Ontario walked over “speaking of Newfoundland, where is your twin?” Labrador shrugged, “why am I suppose to know, we don't even live on the same mainland” Nova Scotia pulled her phone out her raincoat “I’ll call him,” she said as she walked off.  
Alberta held up her red plastic cup, shaking it “let’s make this interesting, yo BC you up for a drinking contest?” British Columbia shot up, fire in her eyes, Al smirked, BC could never turn down a challenge. “No, no-no-no-no. no, there will not be any drinking until dad gets here.” BC stuck her tongue out at Ontario “party-pooper” he only groaned, “it’s called being responsible, someone has to do it and since Bec’s too busy being petty to do it” “hey!” “it’s my job” Quebec glared, “I ‘am’ responsible, I’m ‘not’ responsible for those English idiots. If they want to be idiots that’s their choice,” she took a sip of maple syrup, “freedom! or some shit.”   
Saskatchewan got up and walked across the yard to sit down with Northwest, Yukon and Manitoba. “What ya playing” Northwest sighed frustratedly “Yuky and I are playing Uno, we have no idea what Toba playing” Manitoba growled, “no, you’re just playing it wrong if you put a down a +2 then I can put down +4 and give +6 to Yukon” Northwest turned back to Manitoba “no! It skipped your turn.” Saskatchewan back off at that point. Nova walked back in at this point, “he’s on his way.”   
Edward stared at Nova, noticing how deadpan she was recently. He stepped over to his sister “hey Nov, are you alright? Nova Scotia tensed up “yeah I’m fine.” Ed raised his eyebrows, before sighing, he sat down beside her. “You’re still getting through it, eh?” she hugged her knees, “...yes, I know a should be over it, at least littl’ bit by now, bu’ I jus-” he rubbed her back, “oh G’wan, no one expects you to be over it yet, we were surprised when you even showed up” Nova groaned, rubbing her face “so everyone knows that I’m that pathetic,” Ed stuttered “I’m trying to help you feel better, stop twisting my words” Nova scoffed, “sorry, I’m just a little frustrated with myself right now.”  
Newfoundland decided that was a great time to show up, Labrador greeted him, “how ya goin’, bruh.” Ontario stepped upon the porch, “alright, is everyone here?” Quebec called up “oui, tu chienne, are you blind? oh wait, mr.1/20 vision” Ontario restrained himself from going on a rant, “does everyone have a hiding place?” he was met with a wave of ‘mmm-hmm’ “we all know-” British Colombia interrupted him “yeah, yeah, that’s all cool and all, but I think that we should, for his a hundred and fifty-thrid, finally find out who’s the most important province” Nunavut mocked out “or territory.”  
Quebec snorted “oh please, it’s not going to be a territory, Montreal has a higher population than all three of you combined.” Nunavut gave her a condescendingly understanding smile, “oh well, of course, I just gave him his jacket and also gave him the Canadien stereotype of living in igloos and riding polar bears and my people have the most culture out of all of you” Quebec whipped around, “culture!? CULTURE!? You know nothing, I am the remains of a better time, you don't go to Toronto or Ottowa or even Vancouver when you want to go to Canada, you go to Montreal, you go to Quebec!” Nunavut wasn't hiding her frustration, “what, your whole thing is your age!? Well news flash sweaty, I’m the original Canada, before you showed up and FUCKED everything up, you’re just a bad copy of France!”   
Ontario noticed Saskatchewan, Alberta and Manitoba making bets in the corner. “Oh! ‘The original Canada’ that also lives in Alaska, Greenland and Denmark, how could anyone even tell you have a culture other than your stories about how the sun is sans seins, without any permanent building-” “that’s enough!” The fourteen people all turn to the door where their father stood. Quebec heard BC mumble in her ear,   
“you should be glad he interrupted you, I’m pretty sure you were about to say something racist.”


	16. Mute p:1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just an idea, Canada had a huge crash in the 70s where it was straight considered an honourary third world Country. smash dat with some headcanons and globe warming

America sat beside his brother hunched over the toilet as he emptied his gut, he tried to lighten the mood, “quite a way to spend your first 70s as a country” his smile was not returned. America noticed how raspy Canada’s breathing was as he flushed the toilet. “Do you know what causes this, uptake in violence, financial crisis, natural disaster?” Canada opened his mouth to respond, “n-au~o…n-ot… th-at I-I… k-n~ow” America flinched a little at how painful his throat sounded, “I don't think talking is a good idea right now, what do you think could have caused it?” Canada sat in silence for a few minutes before his eyes suddenly widened, he head snapped back at America, “A-aant-ar-” America put a hand on his brother’s mouth, Canada gave him a frustrated look. He snatched up a pen and paper and quickly scribbled down a word before sliding it over. America stared at the word, “Antarctica? What does she have to do with this?” he just raised his eyebrow, Canada tapped his throat, “you- you don't think you have what she has?”   
Canada tightened his lips before nodding “but you’re nothing like her.” he grabbed the paper and wrote down another word, America bit his lip. “Greenland is different too” even as he said this it was obvious that America was doubting himself. He looked back at Canada who had a pleading look in his eyes. America looked down and sighed, “fine I’ll entertain the idea, but Russia would have gotten… it… first, right?” Canada just blinked a few times, “right, right off-topic, well if you really think that why you lost voice, that would make it permanent-” Canada’s eyes widened in realized shock, he put a hand to his head, “wow, come on, we don't yet, this is just a hypothetical,” that did nothing to stop the tears forming in Canada’s eyes. “I-I… c-ca-n’t, n-nn-o-” America rubbed circles into his brother’s back, “Hey, hey~ shhhh, it’s alright, will get through this together,” the sound of his broken raspy sobs broke America’s heart.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> god, I love Quebec, she just great

Quebec sighed as she slid down the house’s halls, she did everything she could to be as independent as possible but somethings she needed permission from other people involved.  
Quebec knocked on the door to get her brothers attention, Ontario looked up at her. “What demons have cursed me with your company?” Quebec sighed before raising the piece of paper, “j'ai besoin ton signature for this trading thing with New York,” Ontario got out of his chair and he took the paper.  
He slid his glasses off his nose to read it. Quebec got bored so she decided to bring something up to talk about.  
“Why do you have glasses red” he just shrugged,  
“*magenta’s* my colour,” he said, inforcing the word, this piqued her interest,  
“oui, mais how’d you get them, I know you became near-sighted in la Seconde Guerre Mondiale” she couldn't help but imagine him walking into a shop and custom ordering a pair of large round pink Harry Potter glasses.  
“I was first planning on getting some small rectangle glasses like Germany’s but I just saw these and well they just worked.”  
Quebec picked up the glasses off the table and placed them on her own nose, adjusting them.  
“Comment do I look,” Ontario looked up from the paper and squinted, “I have no idea” Quebec rolled her eyes and turn to a mirror,  
“mhm, I think mon couleur is magenta, aussi” Ontario raised his eyebrows, “you don't need glasses though,” Quebec smirked.  
“that won’t stop moi from coming for ton style.” Ontario signed the paper and pasted the paper back to her before quickly swiping his glasses off his sister’s face.  
“You still can’t have my glasses, besides don't you only wear royal colours” Quebec face turned, she sputtered something out.  
“How did you- I mean- but I-” Ontario looked unimpressed.  
“It was pretty easy to figure out why you went with the whole purple and blue get-up, the other option was you’re trying to be as not me as possible and if that was true you would have chosen green” Quebec blinked a bit,  
“comment long did you spend analyzing ma fashion choices” Ontario just chuckled.  
“Look on the third day of being awake the weirdest things are entertaining to you” Quebec quickly finished the rest of the paper.  
“Et tu wonder why Papa worries about you” she sighed before walking out of the room.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> boy some headcanons slipped into this one and yup, America and Canada argue to this about their father to this day. Canada will defend him to the death

America leaned back, his eyes narrowing on the whisky bottle beside him. How’d the hell did he get here, everything was going so well between him Mexico and now they were not only on the brink of divorce but the brink of war.

America was confident that he would get custody if it did come down to that but he needed support. He went down the list of people he could talk to.

Britain, no his dad’s divorce screwed everyone involved over, including himself. France, no mom would definitely take Mexico’s side. The twins were too far away he couldn't leave his country alone for that long.

That basically left him with only Canada, who he hadn’t talked to in 30 years. America chuckled as he realized it had been exactly 30 years since they last talked, even if the last time was in the middle of a war. 

Canada took the war of 1812 rather personally, America could only kinda understand through he didn't know why he would take so long to get it. It wasn't even about him! America never took war this personally. Well, this was a better time than ever to repair a relationship.

Kingston was a quaint little town, he heard the cold wind whistling through stone streets as wondered how such a simple town became capital, then he remembered that they move the capital basically every time the king died. 

America wondered what such a difference in culture would do to a country, the French and English were ready to tear each other apart at any moment. Canada must go through mood swings constantly. He really should have been a pair of twins, East and West Canada, French and English. It wasn't unusual for countries to be run by siblings or lovers on a rare occasion when cultures were this different. Some times they would fuse, more often there would be a civil war and a declaration of independence, occasionally both. 

It was a little late, early May with light snow, way too cold in America’s opinion. The sun was still out luckily. He strolled down the street as mothers called out to their children to come inside. The town was slowly getting quieter, America very suddenly felt the need to find his brother faster.

Canada was just kind of staring into the forest across Kingston when America found him. He paused as he wondered the best way to get his attention. He walked closer to the taller, his brother was humming some French tune and looking into his arms. He turned slightly and America stopped, looking to the small child in Canada’s arms. He was spoon-feeding milk to her. 

“Nada’?” he called out hesitantly, Canada just stared at him for a couple of moments. “Is she- am I?” Canada turned to the ground as he collected himself, “it’s cold, we should go inside.” America silently followed him inside the large house, America sat himself down at the kitchen table as he watched Canada put the small girl into a crib, quietly cooing to her. 

Canada finally came over to the table and sat down across from his brother, a few minutes past. “Is she-?” “Quebec,” Canada smiled to himself, “my first, your first niece as well, eh?” America sighed, “looked, I’m sorry I should have told you ahead, but, I needed someone to talk to.”

“Un could say I have been a bit childish the last… “thirty years” “wait, really? That long? Well, I would say we’re even now,” America snorted at the half-baked joke, “so how are Mexico and you doing, I understand tensions are high maintenant.”

America opened his mouth slowly, “we’re… getting a divorce” Canada paused, “oh, it’s a shame I didn't get to spend more time with you two, what are you doing with the kids?” America smiled weakly, “don't worry, I’m going to keep them as far away as possible” Canada put a hand on his shoulder, “if ever need someone to watch them, I’m sure they would want to meet their cousin.”

America felt everything crashing down on him, his worry for the kids, him and his wife’s different ways of raising them, their relationship to each other. He stood up and grabbed his brother, pulling him into an embrace. He buried his face in Canada’s jacket. He couldn't hold it back and just silently sobbed. 

Canada just stood there a little starstruck, he gently rubbed his brother’s back. He waited a few minutes before the shorted pealed himself off him, “I’m sorry, I haven’t had anyone to talk since my relationship started to deteriorate and tensions have been rising in the states with whether slavery is a needed for the economy and it’s all just such a balancing act!” 

Once they had both calmed down, “thanks, I know I just kind of barged in” America spoke up, “no, it’s alright, I’m glad we talked. I-I missed you.” Canada suddenly perked up, he grabbed America by the wrist, “come on I want to show you something.” The country followed him a little confusedly. They came across a small closet where Canada dug through it for a couple of minutes before he pulled something out.

“I-is that my old guitar?” Canada smiled shyly, “yeah, father gave it to me after he found it, I thought you might want back so I kept it in the best condition I could.” America took the guitar lightly in his hands, his fingers glided over the grooves that decorated the wood. “I hadn’t had a guitar of this quality since I moved out” he played with the strings, carefully tuning it, “yeah, dad really knows how to choose a gift.” America rolled his eyes, “yeah, throw enough money at someone and they might mistake it for love, the best way to choose gifts.”

Canada got flustered, “father did the best he could, he was a single parent who had a very busy job” America stared in disbelief, “busy job!? He owned half the world! I think he could have spared a second for his kids!” Canada got a little more frustrated. “He spared plenty of seconds for us, you were just too deep in your rebel phase to notice it and of course he cared about you, he was so worried you when you left” America scoffed, “and he was confident I would fail, yelled at me any chance he got.” 

“He didn't yell that often, you’re the one who always egged him on, I thought he was good at controlling his temper.” America blinked, “you think he’s good at controlling his-? Canada he SLAPPED when heard you speaking french! Did he ever even apologize for it?” Canada shrunk back, “he probably doesn’t even remember it happened, it’s fine” America groaned under his breath, he didn't know what to say. 

the silence stretched between them, “thanks for my guitar I’m glad to have it back” Canada nodded and began to walk back to the front room, “my offer is still open, if my nieces and nephews ever need a place to stay they’re welcome here” America smiled, he gave Canada one last hug, “goodbye, brother” he slung the guitar over his shoulder. Canada waved him off.


	19. Chapter 19

Canada ran her fingers through her hair, tapping on her hat beside her. Her grasp on the English language slipped a little “guess its Quebec’s week.” she thought amusedly. It was a running joke with, well, herself, she could notice that every couple weeks Canada felt a little different, she even started taking notes on each difference, connecting them to her provinces.

She knew her interest in Mexico, was a little stronger than just a crush. Canada never hid her lesbianism, even around the less accepting countries. It never came up, nor did it affect her political relations, even if there was that one time she had to excuse herself to the bathroom after she heard Russia used the term ‘faggot’ to describe someone. Canada could plainly recall the blind rage that burned through her veins, the sounds of her hands slamming down the reverberated through the majored of the room.

The red-head merely apologized for the interruption and left. For a moment she was both glad to not have the strength of her brother, knowing something would be severely damaged but also annoyed, she wanted to have an effect on something, for someone to find her surrounded by destruction. For people to listen to her out of fear of missing something.

That thought was quickly silenced by the memories of what that life was truly made of. Canada always had some connection to a superpower, whether it was her mother, father or brother and she remembered how lonely it was. The stress in the knowledge that any weakness would mean that someone would try to wipe her out. That the fear would lead to hate and hated she refused to be.

Her thought turned back to Mexico, as she felt her face heat up, a small smile teased her lips. Mexico felt so different from her, complicity cultured, brightly coloured, so full of loud, boisterous life, so different from the quiet and muddled natural wonders that Canada took so much pride in. 

Heat practically radiated off of Mexico, Canada loved the feeling of simply basking in the warmth. Everything about Mexico was warm, her skin tone, her hair, the way she talked, so different from Canada. The country stared down at her hands, it wasn't quite right to call her caucasian. Her skin tone was similar to a First Nation mixed with a southern Asian except desaturated as if she hadn’t seen the sun in a couple of months.

Canada got many questions about her ethnicity, not that she knew anything about it either, always falling back on her half-truth. That she had European parents and had no idea where she got her colouring.

Canada stretched out along her desk, shivering a little. The cold didn't commonly bother her, but she couldn't help but long for Mexico’s warmth. She reached across the table, grabbing her phone and questioning whether 1 AM is a good time to contact her brother’s ex-wife.

Canada scoffed at the idea she had just presented herself, her fingers hovered the messages, her anxiety was not letting her continue. Canada slammed her head down on the desk in annoyance, it hurt a lot more than she wanted but at least it distracted her. “I fell in love with a straight girl” it sounded so simple when she said it out loud. 

“Was she straight?” that one thought caused her pause, Mexico never said it out directly. A little hope seeped into her, maybe she would visit the Southen Americas later.


	20. After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hi, welcome to your fav North Americans (minus Greenland) who don't have a clear concept of death talking about what it might like to die, that all it is, I might have gotten a little carried away.
> 
> yes, they're all pretty comfortable with the fact they're immortal, what else are you going to talk about with hours in a bunker during a bombing

“do you think that countries can go to heaven or hell?” America broke the silence of the three, Mexico blinked, before her head hit the desk with a loud thud, “it’s too early for these talks!” Canada took this as his cue to pull out a small bag of weed, “no, put that away, I want to this to be slightly serious.” This was new, that as much was communicated between the look that Mexico and Canada shared.

Canada sighed, always one to entertain his brother’s ideas, “well, I would think, by all means, on the rare chance that we do die” Mexico resigned herself for the next couple hours, “are we assuming that hu-” “citizens” Canada interrupted monotonously, “-citizens-” Mexico connected herself before continuing, “-go heaven and hell as an afterlife.”

“Yeah obviously, but like which countries would go to which, like Rome did lots but-” “we’re all going to hell” Canada was staring down at his lap, “we have all killed before, we’re all made insane mistakes before” his eyes widened silently, “if we’re talking about christianly, our existence as some level of immortal is a sin in itself,” Mexico rubbed his arm gently, “I think we should slow down a little, this is not the time for a crisis.” 

“Why not, I’m turning five hundred in a couple of years, why not a mid-life crisis” Mexico gave him a done look, “than have it in a couple years” she looked to America for help. “Why, don't we talk another afterlife, urm… reincarnation?” Mexico decided that she wanted this one to be taken a little lighter.

“I hope I’m a whale in my next life,” America mumbled under his breath, “you already are one” “sorry?” America got a deer in the headlights look, “-uhhhhhhh, that assuming that whales still exist by your next life.” Canada got a sad look, “yeah, it’s a shame we’re losing them.” America just barely bit back a remark, he knew that Canada was touchy when it came to his wildlife.

“What about ghosts?” Mexico questioned, Canada shrugged, “what about ghosts?” America stood up, “Soviet, if you’re here, Fuck You!” Canada snorted out, falling into giggle fits.

“What if we actually can’t die,” Mexico thought aloud, she wasn't sure if the other two were listening but she really didn't care, “sure we’ve ‘seen’ countries die, and they haven’t come back but what if they just didn't come back after their heart restarted,” she noticed she now had both of their attention was now on her, “now they were just, walking around, being immortal, with no responsibles.”

“Did you see how Soviet died, that not exactly a normal death,” Canada bit his lip, shrugging his shoulders. “If someone can come back from getting their head chopped off, they can come back from anything, it could just him losing his link to his homeland.” 

The thoughts were bothering America, he really didn't want to think about what kind of empires could be hiding plain sight in the logic they followed, could Nazi Germany be hiding in somewhere in Germany, could the USSR be starting up communism organization in the shadows.

“W-what about the forgiveness thing” the starry-eyed directly changed the subject, “què?” America fiddled around with his fingers, “ uh- you know, how a life dedicated to God will let someone be forgiven, like, I get that some of the stuff we have done wouldn’t be forgiven if a hu-” he took a deep breath, “-citizen had done it, but there will be hundreds of years in between when we committed the sin and, whenever we… kick the bucket, so…”

Canada looked like he wanted to say something but Mexico opened her mouth first, “we should get Vatican in on this, I’m kind of invested now” America rolled his eyes, “Vatican doesn't have any more idea of how this works then we do, he just pretends he does.” Canada turned to him, shocked “don't talk about the pope’s home like that.” America squeezed his eyes shut, scrunching his eyebrows together “wow, I forgot you’re still Christian.” 

Canada blinked at him, “...you’re also Christian, eh?” America intertwined his hands, “on paper? Yes, but we did just have a whole-ass conversion about how christianly really doesn't work for immortals.” Canada had to concede to that. “It makes sense that so much of Europe is atheist,” Mexico bought up. The three countries fell back into their comfortable silence.


	21. A new kind of war

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> when information gets inexplicably leaked, every country is at risk, even as they deal with in different ways. While taken, Canada put to the mercy of the people he swore to protect, while a small collection of countries led by America charged to by seen as equals.

“Maple, we need to go!” America was done trying to convince his brother, giving it one last-ditch attempt, no one knew how information that protected got leaked, all they knew was that is was and now the people were angry. 

Both America’s and Canada’s leaders had already given themselves up for questioning, and now America was running, “I can’t.” America was used to his people being in unrest, every action would cause some kind of protest, even if it was a protest this large. “There’s no chance of mercy out there, you know how they get around the inhuman.” 

Canada took in a sharp inhale, “It’s fine, Cola, it’s fine” he sounded much more like he was trying to convince himself the second time. “What do you mean it’s fine, do you have a-!” “I’m giving myself up” Canada was staring down at the floor, a mix of shame and unease on his face.

America stood in silent shock, “are you sure?” Canada gave a solemn nod, “I-I trust my people, whatever their will is,“ his eyes rose to meet America “is mine as well” America couldn't help but let out a low growl, “even if their will is your death?”

Canada flinched, “It- wouldn’t be the first time” America stared dumbstruck before his face twisted in concern, “you’re so sure about this.” Canada could only offer a weak smile, “I have faith.”

America took his brother’s hand, “I understand but…” he removed his glasses, turning to look up, “promise me you’ll be safe,” Canada took his other hand “as long as you promise me as well.” 

America nodded his head before Canada pulled him into a tight hug, “goodbye, mon frère,” they pulled apart, Canada with small flecks gathering in his eyes, “see you soon.”

And with that, the red-eyed turn away, wiping his eyes dry. He grabbed his axe from his back and dropped to his side and finally turn to face the posse outside. America replaced the glasses on his face. 

America took off through the backdoor of the house, he quickly mounted his horse freedom, a beautiful chestnut mare. He was about to gallop off when he heard two gunshots ring throughout the area, causing him to flinch.

He didn't want to think about what they meant, he kicked Freedom into a fast trot down the back path that led to the forest, his eyes beginning to line with tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 50/50 chance I'm going to continue this


	22. Chapter 22

Poland watched as Germany angrily threw the phone down on the table, “no contact?” he asked hesitantly, she collapsed into the chair across from him, “nein, the European Union is officially off the grid.”

Germany collected herself and turned to Poland with that same stoic expression, “they’re going to be here in a day at most,” Poland considered what EU was possibly doing, “so what are we planing?” 

Germany managed half of a smirk before rubbing her temples “surrendering, what other options are there,” Poland’s face contorted, “we can’t just give up!” Germany continued unfazed, “words can be powerful, but they lose all meaning when coming from an enemy.”

Poland refused to give up, “they don't have much value coming from prisoners either” Germany tighten her lips, “then what do you think we should do” Poland hesitated, he reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone.

“I got a message from the US, he and the rest of the Americas are meeting in Labrador, we could join them,” Germany’s brow furrowed, “how would we get there? And what are we going to do after?”

Poland didn't have a great answer, “we’ll work better when we’re together.” Germany’s eyes turned away, “I-I don't know, I-I just think that might give the wrong impression.” Poland took her chin in his hands, “we should at least try.”

Germany gave a small nod, “fine,” Poland grinned, “alright, so we should start moving toward the coast, we should hopefully pick up Belgium, Netherlands and France” Germany followed along quietly.

Poland volunteered to take the first turn driving, “get some sleep Niemcy.” He continued on for a couple of hours, doing his best to take backroads and avoiding eye contact.

He was driving down a road surrounding by forest alone when a gunshot echoed around them. Poland immediately pulled over, jolting Germany awake, “Polen? What ist it?” he was already getting out of the car, “I heard a gun.”

Germany didn't push anymore, she followed him farther down a dirt path into the forest. The sound of metal scraping against metal was audible now, Poland reached a clearing only to immediately have a sword pressed against his throat.

Japan suppressed a hiss at the newcomers, showing up just when she had finished up the last of her enemies. “Kurwa! Woah” Japan’s ears perked up as she recognized the voice. She lowered her blade slowly getting a good look, her tail swishing nervously across the ground. Not only was Poland there but Germany was behind him, “Japonia?” she nodded cautiously, “Kon'nichiwa Pōrando.”

“What are you doing here?” she questioned, “I’m just saying that it’s a bit weirder you’re in Europe than us,” Germany deadpanned, Japan chuckled dryly, “I was one of the first people to notice what was going down, it wasn't terribly hard to get out of dodge before they decided to go all hunting season on us” she stared expectedly, “we’re heading west, the Americas are grouping together and we’re hoping to join them.” 

Japan sheath her sword, “then I wish to join you, it’s getting harder to take down the number of people coming after me and I hope to make sure America’s alright” Germany looked a little panicked “please tell me you didn't kill anybody, we don't need that right now.” Japan’s tail flicked in annoyance, though her face stayed emotionless. “Of course I didn't kill anybody, most of them just a bump on their head, a fair-sized cut at worst.”

She directed them toward the lump of unconsciousness that laid on the ground. Poland, not really wanting to comment on it, began to lead them back to the car, using his wings to push foliage out of the way.

The three got back to the car, continuing through the roads of the Netherlands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Japan is a formal-ass Neko who doesnèt know how to emotion, it's also a lot easier to kick the ass of a citizen of another country


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this ain't Britain's first rodeo

Britain took a long sip from his tea, the police were late and it was steadily getting on his nerves, he yawned tiredly, going to check his watch again when the sound of his door being slammed open shook the house. He lazily grabbed his staff beside him, three men entered two of them being heavily armed. Britain was a little underwhelmed, he tapped his staff against his floor, “get on the ground!”

The shadows reached across the room, tendrils stuck out from the floor, tightening around the armed men, the stumbling causing them to drop their guns. The third man whipped around to his right and left, “what the fuc-!” two more tendrils dragged the guns across the ground towards Britain.

The freeman stared in horror at his now immobile allies before slowly turning back to face his country, Britain gave a kind smile, “there, now that that’s out of the way, why don't you sit down,” the man slowly, cautiously took his seat across from the blue-eyed. “Thank you, let’s start with the basics, my name is United Kingdoms or Britain if you prefer, and you are?” he took a second to process that he was asked a question, “Hayes, officer Hayes.”

UK smirked, “always good to meet an officer of the law” he took another sip from his cup, “tea?” he asked, setting his cup down and picking up the pot, “can we skip the pleasantries, we both know why I’m here,” he asked harshly, throwing a nervous glance toward his still tied up teammates. Britain clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“Tch, tch, pleasantries set the tone,“ he poured the tea into his cup and took another sip “besides, you’re not exactly in a position to make demands.” the underlining threat did not go unnoticed, he needed to get some kind of leg up. “If we need to get to the politics right away, then what are your demands?” His head whipped upwards, Britain seemed to be getting smugger, “please tell me you do have demands? This isn't just some kind temper tantrum, I know citizens can be like-”

“Citizens? Is that your way of getting around saying ‘humans’” Britain was slightly stumped by that, “o-of course not, now-,” Hayes cleared his throat, “you will come willingly with us, under the terms of arrested, then you will answer our questions about these other ‘countries’” Britain was a little surprised by the directness, doing his best to not show it. 

“And in who’s custody will I be?” Hayes took a sip of his own tea feeling his own confidence raise, “the English government’s for now but the America government appeared to be trying to collect as much of your kind as they can, we are expecting a request for you and the other four ‘countries’ soon,” UK didn't let his slight anger from the ‘your kind’ comment leak on to his face.

“Have you decided what you’ll response yet” Hayes shook his head, “not officially, but they do seem to be leaning towards letting them have you,” Britain nodded, he stood up and began to walk off, “And where do you think you’re going?” Hayes said, also standing. “I am thousands of years your elder, do not patronize me” he turned his head up slightly “I’m going to get England unless you plan on coming back for her another time.”

Hayes nodded his head, “you can continue,” Britain shook his head amusedly, plucking his staff off the table, “officer Hayes, make no mistake, I am ‘under the terms of arrest’ in nothing but name,” he tapped it to the ground, the black tendrils releasing their victims and retreating back to his shadow, “you’re not in control” and with that, he turned and climbed the stairs to England’s room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if there's confusion about UK ability, he can use his staff to produce the shadow tendrils, he has one tendril for every country under him. so at the moment, he can make four at a time


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> America decides to call on another brother when he needs support

America’s horse trotted into a small clearing in the center of the forest, a spot that Canada had shown him long ago. He saw Greenland sat on an old log by a fire. He quickly dismounted, Greenland waved him over her. He approached her, she smiled “hey, good to see you finally here.” America collapsed on to the log beside Greenland. She sighed seeing the state that he was in, she put a hand on his shoulder. 

“It’s going be alright,” America just quietly nodded, “do you when the southerners and Canada are coming?” America tensed at the mention of his brother, “Mexico confirmed that at least half of them are going to meet at an airport, I give it 5 hours at least.” Greenland made an ‘ah’ sound, “and Canada?” 

“H-he’s not coming” he did his best to hold himself together, Greenland didn't push, she pulled out her phone, nervously glancing at him a couple of times. “I’m going to try and get in contract Antarctica, hang in there” she offended as comforting a smile as she before pushing herself up and walking off to get some privacy.

America’s grip strengthened as he considered an idea, he slowly pulled off his glasses. Very hesitantly, he opened his right eye, exposing the inky black that surrounded a confederate flag. America felt the other presence materialize beside him, “well then,” the familiar voice echoed out, “this is new.”

America looked to see his ‘brother’ now beside him, trying his best not to glare, “stop giving me that look, you called me here” America ran his fingers through his hair. He expected do you see the same Confederate that he had seen hundreds of years ago, instead he saw a modernized Southerner that screamed ‘I’m not racist, but…” 

“Yeah, I just need someone right now” Confederate raised his eyebrows, “border jumper going to be here in a couple of hours, but I get not wanting to talk to that stingy-ass Mexican-” “I already regret this so much” America sighed going to put his sunglasses, Confederate suddenly scrabbled to get at his hand, “Wait! Wait, I’ll shut up it’s been way too long since I’ve been out.

America stared at the crackling fire, “this is what happens when you let people have their ignorance, they get all pissed when they realize it, no matter how much you’re trying to protect them, it just makes prejudice” America openly laughed, “that’s rich coming from the king of prejudices himself” Confederate looked unimpressed, “I’m just saying, honestly I’ve always thought that this whole hiding thing is stupid,” he winked, “let them know their not the dominant race.”

America rolled his eyes, “they are the dominant race, we need giant masses of land, an entire culture and at least a couple of thousand people that have national pride to even exist, there are only 200 of us for a reason.” Confederate smirked, “so there is a master race” America choked on air, “actually you’re not counting the states, provinces or territories.”

That silenced America as he considered the thought, “but… states aren't like countries” Confederate turned his head questioningly, “you notice that states and provinces aren't always born on there creation, frick, Quebec the province was born literally hundreds of years after the colony of Quebec was established, I’m not sure what’s different but they are.”

Confederate laid across the log, “oh we talking your pussy of a brother,” America growled, “he’s your brother too you know,” Confederate pursed his lips, “yeah and he took to pussy way out, I don't even know how he’s country he should have got conquered long ago, you need to stop protecting him, let him get a taste, he never fought a war on his own,” the look on his face got cocky, “and a personal revolution is a great way to start.” 

This was the first time America really thought about where this was going, “you think this is going to turn into a revolution,” Confederate smacked his dry lips, “one thousand percent, as soon as a country lays a hand on a human the world going to go into ‘us vs. them, Ethics don't matter, we must destroy them before they destroy us’ mode and then everyone is screwed.” 

America heard Greenland coming back, he quickly slipped on his glasses, dissipating Confederate, “hey” he turned to meet Greenland, the words of his other half fresh in his mind, “how’d it go?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confederate said some racist things, he's the bitch who fought for slavery what did you expect, no one agrees with him


	25. Netherlands x Canada

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I do not see this ship nearly enough 
> 
> no this is Obviously not part of A New Kind Of War

Canada sighed as he mulled over his financial plan, he was editing the amount being given to the pursuit of cleaner water in his northern parts. He felt a presence over his shoulder, “is that much really necessary?” Canada blew some air from his nose, “yes father, it’s one of the issues I have to deal with,” Britain’s lips tightened, “you have some of the cleanest water, surely it’s not that much of a problem.” 

Canada held in a groan, “freshwater doesn't mean clean, it’s important to use it properly.” Britain turned away from him, “yes but surely you have more important issues.” Canada was almost done with the plan, he only needed one more thing. “Yes, but those issues can’t be dealt with money.”

As if summoned, one of those issues walked into the room, “j’ai la papier pour le traduction, c’est-se que tu a finis avec programme financir” Canada smiled, “ah, oui merci, moi belle province.” Britain looked uncomfortable, Quebec picked up on this too. 

“What it is? tu conne anglais” while Britain didn't know what she said, but his son’s reaction told him enough, “Quebec!” Britain growled, “watch your tone, you need to learn to respect your grandfather” Quebec merely raised her brows and closed her eyes, “tu ne sont pas moi grand-père.”

Britain’s inability to understand her aggravated him farther, he whipped around to Canada, hoping for him to least translate if not defend him. Canada only sighed, “d’accord, c’est assez.” Britain tilted his head up after she left, “you need to learn to control her.” Confusion leaked on to Canada’s face, “why? She’s an adult.”

“Yes, but she’s your province, and if you keep encouraging her she’ll never give up her attachment to the french culture and catch up with the rest of the country” Canada smacked his lips, “my French isn't going anywhere,” he took a sip of his cocoa, “I plan to make sure of it.” Britain’s eyes hardened as they fell on Canada’s.

“I see you haven’t given up on that childish idea either” Canada held back his frustration, “my culture isn't childish,” Britain scoffed, “please, your ‘culture’ isn't just the French language,” Canada got more heated, “it’s only in one area so it’s barely count-” “ACTUALLY! There are even more aggressively French communities in the Atlantic provinces” Britain appeared to be condescendingly interested, “oh really?! Why in bloody hell would that be! you’re an English colony-!” Britain stopped himself, but it was way too late.

Canada stood up, his hands harshly connected with the table. “I think” he hissed between his teeth, “we should both cool down.” He walked out of the room, deciding to treat himself, pouring some whiskey into cocoa. Taking a sip from the burning liquid. He found a table to sit at, feeling his head hit the surface.

After a couple of minutes of him trying to understand what just happened to him, he felt another presence sit down beside him, he looked up to see what looked like a twenty-something-year-old man beside him, “are you alright?” he shrugged his shoulders, “do you want to talk about it or is it like secret country stuff.” Canada snorted, letting out a couple of weak chuckles, “it’s some family issues,” his face scrunched up, “I swear, they all still think I’m some small weak colony that can't decide if he's French or English!”

His face went from anger to disappointment, “France, Britain, America” he groaned, “even Aussie and Kiwi!” he took another sip from his mug, he shook his head, “sorry, I didn't mean to unload all this on you” the man just smiled, “Nah, it’s alright. Name’s Chris by the way” he shook his hand, “enchantè Chris, I’m Canada” he grinned, “but I assumed you knew that.”

He turned away from him, “it’s weird to think that countries have family issues,” Canada took another swig, “who doesn't? Don't get me wrong, I love them, they’re my best allies and I rely on them but sometimes I just want a break!” 

Chris tilted his head, “aren't you like, friends with everyone, you’ll think you’ll have that option,” that found its way into Canada’s head before a smirk tugged at his lips, “the Tulip Festival is tomorrow, maybe I’ll invite Ned out. Thanks” He stood up finishing off the last of the drink.

Canada walked through the fields of the flowers, he lightly brushed his fingers over the soft petals, tulips were always his favourite, he looked out over the multiple colours that made his capital shine. 

The country watched a car pulled into the driveway, Netherlands got out of the car. Canada waved him over, “Ned!” his face lit up, he jogged over before Canada pulled him into a hug. Netherlands looked around, “So how long have you spent in this garden?” Canada playfully rolled his eyes, “not much actually, most of these plants have been growing back every year since they were planted.”

The two walked to the centrepiece of the garden where the one hundred and fifty-two Canadien tulips grew, the smaller country pulled an unbloomed one out of his bag, presenting it to the taller, “congrats on a hundred and fifty-three years of freedom” he winked, “no matter out little time that actually is.”

Canada sighed as he bent down to plant it in the garden, “yes yes, I know you’re a lot older,” Canada began to dig into the ground. Netherlands paused, “you'll be hitting five hundred soon?” Canada shrugged, “if fourteen years is soon then yes.” Canada ran his fingers over the stem.

“I still can't believe that you bred me a flower as a thank you, when you asked me what my favourite flower was I expected a bouquet of red and white tulips organized to look like a Canadian flag, not” he gestured around him, “ten thousand different coloured flowers and a new breed.”

“What? Go big or go home” Canada laughed as he got up, “and must I get the best for my hero” Netherlands expressed dramatically, he rebalanced himself before continuing, “I’m just glad you eventually got out of the edgy faze.” Canada looked at him in confusion, “edgy faze?” Netherlands through his hand in the air, “dude, in the world wars you had a glare that could kill and an ability with a gun that actually did.”

Canada's face heated up a bit, “sometimes I think your old eyepatch just like made you more aggressive” Canada looked away, “yeah, you could say that.” Netherland face lit up, “come on, why don't show me your signature glare!” Canada was hesitant, “I’m not sure I could pull it off.” 

Canada rummaged around in one of the back pockets before pulling the shield of the coat of arms, he always kept it on him as a good luck charm. He carefully positioned it over his scarred eye. Part of him wanted to pretend that he had no idea why he wore it for so long, the other part wanted to be honest. 

He knew he was more defensive with it on, he only started wearing it after his father gave it to him to hide the scar that his father had given him. He looked back at the Netherlands. He shook his head, “did I do it?” Netherlands laughed.

“Dude! You’re still doing it” Canada got a little closer, “does it bother you?” Ned smirked before throwing his arms around Canada’s neck, “nope, not at all, that anger-ass glare is something that means safety to me.” Canada felt like he should have been embarrassed by this, but he wasn't.

“Getting a little gay today, eh?”


	26. shit that is canon that I dont have the time to fully write

Some new people wanting to do a scare prank during Helloween to which Mexico took a shot and said “90% of the people in this building have PTSD, you are going to get your house burnt down and your country declared war on”

America broke down the door to the UN meeting, yelled: “guess what shit I found from Japan!” and then made everyone sit down and watch Hetalia much to Japan’s annoyance. Use your imagination for everyone else’s reaction.

Canada (high off his ass) mentioned to America that Alaska was technically Russia’s Aunt, which caused America a mental breakdown about the age difference in countries that are seen as ‘equals’

When questioned about his scars, America has a great time explaining them, until they get to the burn mark right above his heart, at which point Canada slides in the room with a guitar and start singing the ‘the War of 1812’ by Three Dead Trolls in a Baggie, America tries to kill him.

Britain getting drunk and stumbling up to Canada like, “I need you *hic* you to rejoin the empire, I want to be tall, I miss *sniffles* being tallest in Europe.”

America getting shit-faced in a drinking contest against Canada.

When something really startles America, he’ll start speaking in an English accent, much to his annoyance and everyone’s else amusement, he then basically has to skip through his accents to get to his normal one, including but limited to, New Yorker, New Jersey, Brooklyn, southern, Texan etc.

Canada and America are immigrants, as America was born in Londen and Canada was born in Paris, only to move to their respective lands much later in life.

That scene in Hamilton with where Eliza teaches Philip French while playing the piano happened between France and Canada (and the genderswapped version happened between Canada and Quebec)


	27. Chapter 27

France leaned back on the couch, this certainly was a turn of events. She had been far in the Northeast territory, right up against the Belgium border. Her house was definitely overrun by now, it felt strangely familiar as she walked through the small cottage, wondering what she was going to do. 

She fiddled with the phone maybe she should call her leader, France shook her head, they were useless in situations like this. She turned to look out the window at the forest, she could run or she could probably just stay here and wait it out. Would they find her? France grabbed the remote and turned on the news. By the looks of it, they were trying to keep it under wraps, she changed it to an American channel, there was definitely some commentary on the new information, but they were presenting it as if was being investigated, a lie.

She turned on the light in the kitchen, maybe she would throw some dinner together, this interrupted by a glass window shattering behind her, she whipped around. France stared at the broken glass before taking a deep breath and carefully approached the now open window. The glint of steel caught her eye, she bent down. Her stare turned to glare as she recognized the bullet. 

France lightly bit her lip, she stood still for a second before taking off out the door. France didn't where she was going but she needed to find where that bullet had come from. She ran towards the forest, a voice raised over the canopy “Qu'est-ce que la baise!?” France rushed to the voice, white feathers blocked her view at first then she saw Poland, struggling against three people trying to hold him down.

France paused for a second, fighting her urge to help her people, then she shoved forward, “désolé” she mumbled under her breath as she threw the person to the ground before whipping around and digging two fingers into the neck of the person behind her. France turned back to see Poland shaking his head before he wordlessly grabbed France’s hand and running further in.

When they arrived, she watched while Japan cut person after person down, each of them collapsed to the ground while Germany stared, backed up against a tree, paralyzed beside Belgium. France couldn’t help but grab Japan as she tried to hit one of them in the head twice. “c’est assez!” Japan’s ears pressed down in annoyance at France yelled at her to stop. 

France felt soft fur swipe against her ankles as Japan returned her blade to her sheath, turning to others. “Has anyone been injured?” Germany snapped out of her trance, “nein, I think everyone’s alright.” Belgium made eye contact with France, “oh, Frankrijk” Germany turned to her, “what are you doing out here?” France felt the ghost of a smile on her lips, “I was out at ma cottage when a shot shattered un du my windows” France tilted her head, “its good to see you’re alright, I was worried how you would react.” Poland snorted, “do you think she would surrender?” 

Germany ignored the comment, “We should get back to the car,” France looked to Belgium and Japan, hoping one of them would explain the situation, “un moment?” Germany just shook her head, “I'll explain on the way.”

The five countries squeezed into the car, with France and Germany in the front, Japan, Belgian and Poland in the back. “Donc, what is going on?” Germany sighed, “we headed to the coast to meet up with the Americas,” France nodded, “bein, I want to make sure mas bébés are alright” Germany was fidgeting with the steering wheel, “those were French right?” France ran her fingers through her hair, “oui, comment did they find vous” Poland spoke up, “I assume they were looking for you, just ran into us by accident.”

France shook her head, “why did you get out of the car?” Japan continued to stare out the window as her ears followed the conversation, “we thought that you might be getting taken into custody, we tried to intervene, though it seems you were in an acceptable condition.” France tapped on the door, “well I don't think that wouldn’t have lasted since they were so close, I don't know they found me though.”

Belgian rested his head into his hand, “from what we can tell, no one who knew about us is still in any position of leadership, which is going to be great when negotiations come, did anyone know that you were out there?” France considered this, “I must have mentioned it to somebody, at least in an offhand sort of way.” 

Poland kept throwing worried glances to Germany, he could tell she was getting uncomfortable, the number of people in the car was not good her claustrophobia, “how long is this drive going to take?” Belgium turned to him, “I’d give it two hours before we reach the coast.”

Poland sunk into the car seat, still not sure what they were going to do when they got there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when I was doing research for this chapter and I found out that the border of Belgium is a two-hour drive away from the coast of France like I have heard the jokes about how small Europe is but holy maple


	28. Chapter 28

A few countries took charge of the small group, which surprised no one. Out of the three South Americans that had shown up, the rest either not being found or refusing to come, Brazil spoke most. America naturally took charge, France offering her experience. Japan commented occasionally, mostly politely listening. Germany gave her two cents but refused to touch anything about hypothetical conflicts. The others, Chile, Peru, Belgium, Poland, Mexico and Greenland merely observed.

“Look” America tone was more serious than anyone there was used to, “no one here wants to talk about this, but we do have to consider what we will do if this does break out into civil war” France tapped on the table in the old cottage, “do we call it a civil war?”

Brazil shook her head, “then we fight back!” everyone stared her, “we have spent literal lifetimes serving them and making sure they don't die, why let them off easy-” “sit down” Japan interrupted, they could all hear the growling in her voice, “some of the people in this room have been serving for much longer than you and don't immediately jump on the killing.” 

“We can’t just sit down and take it” Germany mumbled, she waited for the fire, “Germany’s right, violence isn't the answer but neither is giving up. we need to negotiate,” America wasn't completely sure about what he said next, “but I think that ‘some’ threatening could do good” he put his hand down on the table, “we invite whoever ends up in charge for a meeting, they show up alone if they don't, we make sure they enter alone. one of us will talk with them.” 

“But they don't have terms, they don't want anything other than to be in control” France shook her head, “they tend to overlook compromising.” America shuffled around, “we’ll deal with that when we get there, what’s important is getting to the stage where we’re not being hunted.” Each country eventually agreed to the plan, “how are we going to get this info to them?” Brazil questioned, “I propose a letter,” Japan said. Chile stood up, his tail slipping across the floor, “I’ll deliver it, I can ensure we don't get caught,” America looked to Brazil who nodded.

“Alright then, it’s a plan.”


	29. pride parade

“Cola have you seen my makeup bag?” Canada opened the door to the living room. America snorted, Canada huffed a bit, “makeup. Is. gender. Neutral!” he rolled his eyes, “yeah yeah, I know. You left it in the restroom” Canada nodded his thanks, walking in the bathroom.

Canada retouched his black lipstick, deciding to throw on some blue eyeshadow. He was moving on to the eyeliner when he saw America behind him. “Is the necessary?” Canada rolled his eyes, “you wouldn’t understand, no one ever sees your eyes. Besides” he popped out a mascara, his eyelashes were naturally longer than normal, he looked like he was wearing fake eyelashes with mascara. “You know I only wear makeup during events, like pride month” he turned his head, “you’re always wearing lipstick.” Canada shrugged, “I like black.”

Canada tilted his head while looking in the mirror, “do I look gay enough?” America looked him up and down, “you’re a dude in makeup with short shorts.” he shook his head, “you didn't answer the question.” America facepalmed, “you’re gonna be wearing a pride flag.” Canada raised his eyebrows, “fine, you could be gayer.”

Canada grabbed his tank-top, tying it above his bellybutton, turning it into a crop-top. “Better?” America sighed, “how are you so extra about this one thing” Canada pointed out “I am also extra about hockey.” He reached into his bag, pulling out the rainbow fabric, America got a deer in the headlights look.

“You forgot your Bi flag, eh?” America closed his eyes, “Non, don't worry” he got out a bi pride flag, whipping it at him. America easily caught it, “thanks Mapes.” he attached the flag to his jacket while Canada tied his flag around his neck, “still don't know why you’re dressing like that if you walked past someone dressed like that you would probably pass out.” 

Canada blushed, “I-I um uh ah…” America laughed, “proves my point, ya know when Aussie gonna get here?” Canada nodded his head, “yeah, she going to meet us there.” Canada showed him the Ace flag in his bag, “you think any protesters?” Canada shook his head, “this is Vancouver, one of, if not the, most progressive cities in Canada. There’s not gonna protesters.” he scoffed out a “lucky.”

“So we’re getting Timbits on the way right?” Canada threw an arm around him as they left, “it that even a question?”


	30. shell-shocked 2

Russia shoved his hands into his pockets, angrily. The plane ride was not long enough, now he was in Washington D.C, waltzing into the building. America greeted him with his famous grin, “welcome Ruski, good ta see ya again.” Russia grunted in response, walking quickly past him. America sighed, nothing had changed.

He followed him into the room where the meeting was to resume. “So what is this about?” America shrugged, “oh, you know, building relations, maybe some trade or any news on military?” Russia stared at him, “chto?” America groaned, his own face falling, “look, my leader has some weird ‘prityazheniye’ to you, so here we are” he face tilted, “you speak Russian?” America rocked back in his chair, “I had a Russian child, what was I suppose to do?” Russia smirked, “I wouldn’t expect that from someone like you.”

“Careful there, I may seem like an attractive, arrogant, hot, idiotic pretty boy, but as a world superpower, I have to has some intelligence” Russia scoffed, “*tch*, one, you are not ‘attractive,’ ‘hot’ or ‘pretty’ and those three things mean the same thing,” America rolled his eyes, “and those are some strong words from someone who can be taken out by some bright lights.” 

Russia took a sip of his vodka while he waited for the snapback, he distinctly realized that it didn't come. He looked up to see America staring at the ground as if it offended him. He never really felt guilty about the banter between him and the capitalist but it had changed after he had seen him in such a vulnerable place.

“I-I’m sorry, it’s a sore spot isn't it?” America hissed under his breath, “don't need your pity,” he took a sip of his coke, “besides, you wouldn’t get it, nineteen seventy-one baby.” he chuckled, quickly changing the topic, as Russia growled, he knew that his age was a soft spot, “my age means nothing!” there’s the button, “babe, queen Elizabeth could be your mother, she could be your grandmother.” 

Russia was lightly shaking, “what! No! She was born in twenty-six, папа was born in twenty-two,” America nodded along, “da,” he slipped some Russian words in there, “but she’s ninety-four, he-” he didn't want to make the Russian too upset, he changed his choice of words, “pasted in ninety-one which would make him sixty-nine, so yeah, babushka.”

“Don't call me babe,” America winked, or at least Russia thought he did. “Damn, I thought that slipped pasted,” he ran a hand up Russia’s arm, “I mean, you can call me babe” “no” “baby?” “no” “prince?” “no” “muffin?” “no” “dumping?” “no, shut up!” America rolled his eyes, “come on, at least sweetheart.”

Russia groaned, “will you leave me be you fucking faggot!” America flinched, he looked almost sad, “Ruski, I get it, you’re homophobic, but seriously, ya like dudes. Everyone can tell” Russia’s blush was obvious on his pale face, “that is disgusting, it’s not normal, you are probably just ‘identifying’ as bi for the attention,” America felt like he should have been offended but he wasn't, he realized that if he was going get Slavic out of the closet, he had to let things go.

“Well… how can you know if haven’t tried, tall dark and brooding?” Russia put his head in his hands, “you don't why are you so caught up on this, you don't like me!?” America threw his arms behind his head, “I don't like you, I think you’re hot and I would like to see if it go any further, I also just want to help come out to yourself because I am just such a nice person.”

“You think I’m hot?” America blinked in surprise at Russia’s reaction, “you’re ripped, 6’ft9, and have some of the fairest skin I have ever seen, you are objectively hot.” Russia stared down at hands, he didn't want to feel so much pride in what America told him, he had women hit on him before but this felt different.

“I can’t believe you out of people know my PTSD, we barely count as not enemies” Russia’s mouth moved before he could think, “that could change.” America was taken out by the legs, “what?” the northern country scrambled for an answer, “well the only real reason is that we’re not is because of some grudge that I have no connection to-”

“Ruski, are you implying that you want to be friends with me,” Russia threw his arm in the air, “well it’s not like becoming allies would help either of us, so you should just forget it. You weren’t as obnoxious at 4th of July as you are normally so you know what just- I-” 

“I didn't say allies” Russia gave him a look, “I said friends, me, you, out on the town. Joe and Ivan completely outside our jobs. Pick up some ‘ladles’” Russia ignored the air quotes, “have a couple drinks, you can stay at my place and we can both have a break.”

“I’m not sure I feel safe at your house,” America raised an eyebrow, “what do you think I’m going to do, rape you?” Russia choked up the vodka, “wow, you’re sheltered aren't you?” 

“I-I’m- I wouldn’t say that I was sheltered, maybe a little. I just don't have the experience-” America tuned out the rest of it when he heard that, “so you’re a virgin?” Russia immediately stopped talking, he just stared at him in silence. 

“This has been one of the most non-political meetings I’ve ever had.” America wasn't sure if that was a bad thing.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so yeah, France isn't America bio mom, she just adopted him like finding a lost puppy and America calls her mom to this day

America was running on pride, there was a technical cease-fire, which means the war could continue but America didn't care. He had started planning an end of the war celebration before he thought that maybe he shouldn't alone. 

America got up, leaving his tent walking through the camp. He basked in the much more laid back tension in the air, he could hear the laughing of drunken soldiers as they told war stories around the fire, even his generals were enjoying themselves.

America entered France’s tent to find her in the center of prayer. He silently waited for her to finish, she stood. “France,” he made his presence known, she turned to greet him, “why hello Etats-Unis, may I ask why you are here?” he smiled, making his way over to the table. “This war will be over soon and I couldn't have done it without you, I was wondering if you wanted to help with the celebration?”

“Ah, of course, but it isn't over yet, you might want to have a bit of patience,” America snorted as France ruffled his hair, “I do want to tell you how proud I am of you, you’ve done a lot.” France turned away, she took a bottle of wine, placing it on the table with two wine glasses.

She filled both, giving one to America, she raised it in the air, “to the United States of America,” he looked in shock for a moment, then grinned, “to freedom.” The two downed the drinks. “Thank you for everything, I wouldn’t be here without you, mom-” 

America realized what he said, his head snapping to the other country, “France, I’m sorry-” “do you really think of moi like that?” he blushed as he broke eye contact, “I-um yes I would say, I do.” he responded quietly, he felt a hand on his shoulder, “Etats-Unis, I’m not mad” she gently stroked his cheek, “if anything, I’d be proud to call you my son.”

He looked back up at her, his eyes teared up a bit, he quickly wiped it away. “T-thank you.” She smiled kindly, “don't worry, I’ll be better than that English bastard you call your father could ever be.” France kissed him on the forehead.

“Now come on,” she moved towards the front of the tent, “Nous have a party to plan.”


	32. Japan x America

“This was very polite of you” Japan commented as her eyes searched America’s kitchen. “Nah, you’re doin’ me the favor.” Japan’s ear twitched in recognition, “Hai, but it good to know you want to learn some traditional Japanese recipes” America started pulling ingredients, “yeah… traditional sounds cool and all, but first,” he whipped around, flashing Japan a large smile, “Sushi.” her eyes narrowed in amusement.

“Alright, but sure you have all the ingredients” America nodded his head, “yeah I pick up random shit all the time I think looks cool,” he opened a different cabinet, “seaweed, rice” he opened the fridge “fish, uhhhhhhhhhhhhh and soy sauce?” Japan grabbed the rest, surprised to find that America right.

Japan began filleting the salmon, “can you start the rice?” America nodded his head, “and remember to leave it in for a bit longer than normal.” America pretended that he knew what the normal time was. “What now?” Japan turned around, her ear flattened, “you leave it for a bit, rice is rather easy.”

“So like, when was the last time you slept?” She nearly missed a cut, “I-I… had a nap yesterday,” she got a bit quieter, “for twenty-one minutes~” America blinked at her then sighed, “We should have invited Germany, then it could have been a party of countries that don't sleep.” 

Japan lined up the seaweed, “sacrifices have to made in order to be the third-largest economy” America raised an eyebrow, “China gets a normal amount of sleep” Japan raised a finger, “we agreed that Russia and China are exceptions, not rules.” 

Japan puffed out her chest, “and if Germany would have come we wouldn’t have this time alone, we’re to busy to waste time for those kinds of gatherings” America grinned, “aww, Japy you want to spend time with me, I’m touched,” Japan tilted her head, “Hai, that’s… why I’m here?” 

“Right, sarcasm doesn't really exist in Japan, does it?” Japan nodded, “ah, that’s what you meant.” America bopped her on the nose, “yup!” He had gotten pretty good at reading her but it was hard to tell whether she was annoyed or apathetic. 

The rice cooker went off, “fuck” he quickly scrambled over, pushing it off the heat. He waved the steam away as he turned off the stove “...The rice is done.” A small silence filled the air before Japan started laughing, “I noticed.” 

The two finish lining the seaweed, rice and salmon, rolling it up. Japan gave the knife to America, “here, you try.” America raised his hand a little awkwardly, he brought it down quickly cutting off a bit cleanly, “good job,” Japan praised, watching uncomfortably intensely.

Japan pasted him a pair of chopsticks, America looked between them. Japan noticed his hesitancy. She took his hand, sliding each chopstick into place, “like this, you need to close your fingers like this.” 

After a couple of minutes messing around, America got it under control, “thanks, that probably took a bit of patience” Japan’s eyes slit in amusement, “twenty-eight hundred years will bestow that to someone.” 

America laid the plate on the table, “bone-apple-tea” Japan placed the sushi in her mouth, biting down. America was about to do the same when a light humming noise caught his attention, he looked back to Japan who had her eyes close while she chewed. “A-are… you purring?” the humming went away, as she shook her head. “Apologies, I wasn't paying attention.”

“No, I don't mind, I just didn't know you… could?” Japan sighed, “I would prefer if I didn't, it’s hard to be taken seriously like this.” America bit his own piece, “I can see that but I have seen some of your media and you have no one to blame but yourself.” America noticed a few ticks of anger, “it’s has nothing to do with my media, it’s my culture, my Yokai.” she took another sushi.

America nodded, pressing a kiss to her cheek “sorry.” Japan tried to give him a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so it hurt me to write Favor and not Favour


	33. Chapter 33

Britain stepped quietly through the hallways, taking a cigar out of his pocket. He found his way to his favourite balcony. He opened the door while lighting it up, he looked up, only to be stopped in his tracks. France stared into the distance, sipping from her wine glass, she hadn’t noticed him, he could turn back. Britain took a deep breath he could before coming up behind her, taking a deep inhale from his cigar breathing it out into the cool night wind.

“I thought you dit you were trying to quit, Angleterre?” France didn't bother to look up, “as I do once every century,” a smile found it’s way on to the woman’s lips, she disguised it in another sip. A couple moments of silence followed.

“You really did it.” Britain curled his fingers in his hair, “I was never truly apart of the EU, I only made it official.” France suddenly snorted, Britain’s face flushed, “what? It’s true!” she was nearly half-way done her wine, “always so dramatic, your attachment the pound doesn't make you any less of a European.” Britain huffed on his cigar, a shiver running through his body, he rubbed his arms while he debated going back inside.

He felt a weight collapse around his shoulders, he looked down at the purple leather wrapped around him, surprised to find soft on the inside, warm. He turned back to France who was avoiding eye contact, a smile teasing his lips. “Why thank you then” she tensed, “you looked cold.” Britain tilted his head, “are you not?” France shook her head.

He sunk further into the coat as a breeze blow by, “you know, this reminds me of a certain something” France sighed, closing her eyes, “oui, the moment I considered giving up my lands to Belgium or in other words…” she took another sip, “the first time you called me your wife.”   
Britain collected himself for a moment, a tentative hand reached out. It stopped on her upper arm and when she didn't move away he slowly made his way down her forearm, intertwining their hands. France side-eyed him as he stoked the topped of her hand, “F-France,” he looked back at her, “can we try this again?” She stared a minute, maybe two.

France’s hand slipped away, “Angleterre-” her eyes glued down at the ground, she began to chuckle, then laugh. “You’re just as much of an idiot as the first time we met.” Britain couldn't stop himself from taking a step back as if he had been shot, hurt written all over him. “We ran our course, we’ve had our chance and it didn't work. We. Didn't. Work.” 

Britain caught her wrist, “what we had wasn't a marriage, it’s an insult to Mexico and America or any other to call what we had a marriage, we were glorified housemates, destined to fail!” he got quiet, “I care about you France. Dammit! I care about you more than I have any right to,” his eyes were pleading, “so, S'il vous plaît, France.”

France ran a hand under Britain’s chin, “desperately is not a good look on tu.” She laid his hand on her chest. Britain rested his arms around her waist, pulling the Francophone close. She drooped her arms over his shoulders, burying her face into his neck.

The two waltzed in silence, enjoying each other’s warmth. “This was easier when I was taller” she slid back leading him with her, “it’s a shame you lost your colonies, now you have to be just another country.” Britain spun her around, “I’ll never be ‘just another country,’” he pulled her up to him, “I’ve done too much.” France pushed off him, “I know, I’ve been with you every step of the way.” he dipped her, he caressed her chin.

“To the one consistency in my life.” Britain touched his lips to hers, gently bringing up a hand to her hair.


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yaaay, Canada's first war experience

Canada was one of the lucky ones that managed to grab a bayonet before the French tropes descended. He reloaded, peeking over the large log he hid behind, he shot again. Canada quickly dropped behind the shield before he noticed an injured soldier that he recognized, a seventeen-year-old Canadian boy.

He barely tried to stop himself as he ran out from his safe space, using his bayonet to knock others out of his way, his feet pounded against the snow, ice and blood. He heard more shots go off behind him, the northern country didn't bother looking his mind was hyper-focused. 

He grabbed the hair of a French soldier that was about to shoot the boy, a French soldier he would have once called an ally, slamming their head down on the ground. His eyes widened as he heard a scream that was quickly cut off behind him.  
He tried to whip around only to feel a pair of elbows stab into his stomach, he cried out as he felt himself trip back. Canada grabbed the person in front of him, slamming his knee into them. The two tripped back into a ditch.

Canada panted as he laid in the wet ditch, his uniform sticking uncomfortably to his body in a mix of dirty snow and sweat. He groaned as he attempted to stand up, panic running through his system when he remembered the other Soldier.

Canada scrambled around looking for his bayonet, he laid his eyes on it but so did the other. He launched himself forward, feeling the other smash into him, beating him into the ground, two fingers pressing into his neck.

Canada gasped and struggled like a wild animal, noticing he was distinctly taller than the person on top of him. He managed to grind his knee into their back, hearing them grunt, a woman’s grunt.

He took the moment of weakness to throw her to the ground, he finally got a proper look at her, his eyes widening as he recognized her.

“Maman?” Canada was glad to see her, on some level but that was overshadowed by the anxiety and fear, “maman, je-”

“Don't you dare!” she hissed out, “don't you dare use my language like you’re still my child!”

Canada backed up as she snatched the bayonet, “I-I didn't want to, I didn't have a cho-!”

He was cut off by a bayonet pound into his chest, knocking him to the ground, she pressed a foot to his stomach, “I don't care, I have a war to win and you’re in the way” she spitted, a small bit of doubt crossed her face.

“I-I… I don't care,” she sounded like she was trying to convince herself, as she held the sharp end of the bayonet above him.

Canada closed his eyes, he briefly wondered what it was like to die. He felt hot tears slide down his already wet face, he couldn't help himself. A horn went off in the distance, signalling the British retreat and that the boats were here.

The weight on his chest shifted, he whimpered as the sword came down, implanting itself next to his head. Canada gaped up at her as she panted heavily, she growled.

“Don't expect this mercy from anyone else but,” she let out some tension in her body, “you’re too satané young.” 

France used Canada as a stepping stool in order to get out of the ditch, causing Canada to jump up, choking a little. He struggled to his feet, becoming aware of the thick liquid running down the back of his head and the pain in every part of his body. He fixed up at the top of the ditch, thinking about climbing up made him consider curling back up on the dirt ground.

By the time he got to the top, he was a whimpering mess, his lungs burning. He had to get to the boats before they left. He stumbled down the hill, clutching his arm. Canada grimmest when he came across an almost unrecognizable body. It was that small boy, that small seventeen-year-old boy.

The boy that Canada laughed and joked with over his first beer the night before. Canada broke down, he couldn't help himself. He didn't know why he here, this wasn't his war, it didn't affect him, yet here he stood, losing his children to it. He heard people around him, collecting the still savable, no one approached him.

Canada pushed himself up. He had decided it, he hated war, he loathed it and by extension, he loathed his mother.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

satané-damn


	35. Chapter 35

East was entirely silent, holding lightly on to a new man’s hand. He glanced at West as she pulled and twisted in the man’s grip. The damp feel of the dark bunker clogging his lungs.

“Let us go, I’ll fight you!” She yelled. The tall man just looked tired. Another man approached them, his gaze was hardened, glaring down at the two of them. East shrivelled up in intensity.

“Who the bloody hell are these children?” he hissed quietly.

“They’re countries or at least, in line to become countries,” he sighed, “and yes, that means they’re probably… his.”

The shorter man kneeled, locking eyes with East’s large blank ones. He felt like he was being picked apart, open for all the world to see. His attention was finally pulled away by loud footsteps ascending the stairs. East first saw his father, his eyes angled down, covered by his hat. He was being held by a large man that East recognized, just barely.

“Papa! Let him go! What are you doing to him?!” West had doubled in her attempts to get out of the other’s grip. His father noticed the twins, his eyes only drooped further, exhaustion weighing heavily on every part of his body. 

America let go East to get a better hold on his sister. East couldn't handle it anymore, his father's sad eyes, his sister’s yelling, the glares he got from everyone, he wanted to know what was going on, he wanted someone to talk to him.

East ran, he ran out into cold night air, into the snow falling lightly from the sky. Shivers running throughout his body. He felt a shock in his legs with every step, it was beginning to hurt, he didn't stop.

East didn't want to stop, he didn't want to stop until he could make it back to the start of the war when father was happy. He barely remembered times before the war, he was only six. East finally collapsed as the exhaustion pulled him down and the cold seeped out his strength.

He curled up on himself, shivering too hard to properly see the forest around him, he was soaked and filthy. He didn't know where he was, he briefly wondered if he would die here, alone and unnoticed.

Poland slipped into the bunker, more than a little pissed. Like the allies had any right to keep him away from this. He briefly passed Soviet escorting the Nazi out. Soviet shot him a look of surprise before he turned his gaze. Poland growled as his eyes met Germany’s. He didn't look back, he convinced himself he no longer cared for him. 

Poland finally found the room where the rest were gathered.

“Someone has to go after him,” he recognized America’s voice.

“Why? He’s probably just like his arse of a father,” Britain snided back.  
“They’re innocent! He’s only twelve, he’s overwhelmed!” Poland spotted West stewing and more worryingly, a lack of East.

“What happened?” the two allies’ heads twisted to see him.

“One of the monster’s spawns ran off,” America threw his father an angry look.

Poland’s recoiled a bit, “and why are you sitting around, it’s freezing out-! oh never mind, I’ll go get him,” Poland shook his head moving to the back door. He saw Britain scoffing in the corner of his eye, which ticked him off a little more.

Poland stretched out his wings, taking off. He cried out quietly as his injured wings flared. He flew closer to the ground than he normally would, his worry growing as he circled the beginning of the forest. 

Finally, his attention was drawn by the lightest glow of red peeking past the trees, he quickly tucked his wings, angling himself down. He was picking up speed as he broke the treeline, his feathers expanding out to catch himself. Poland hissed out in pain at that strain it put on his already damaged muscles. 

The winged country eyes widened as he saw the state East was in. The boy was violently shivering, he barely looked conscious. Poland hastily swooped up the poor boy, shaken by how cold he was.

“Mr. Polan?” East twisted his hand into Poland’s shirt, Poland swiftly bundled him in his wings, hoping he’d warm quickly. “Are you okay?” 

Poland was bewildered at the question, “I’m fine East, I’m more worried about you.”

“That's good, it must be nice to be out of there,” Poland bit his lip, he could take off now and get back sooner but would that be too cold? He didn't know how much East could handle. He felt small hands hug his chest, he carefully took the German’s waist in his hands.

“Pierdolić, pierdolić, pierdolić,” pain shot through his nerves, he felt like his back was broken. He flapped hard, managing to make back above the treeline. He felt East squirming in his grip. He wasn't vibrating as much, which was either a good thing or a really bad thing.

Poland sighed in relief when he saw the bunker coming in view. Poland hit the ground and stumbled in the building. The pain was almost overwhelming.

“Oh god, Poland!” America scrambled over to him, taking one of his arms. West grabbed East out of Poland’s arms, quietly scolding him.

"what were you thinking?!" She trapped him in a hug.

“are- you alright?” Poland flinched as America placed a hand on his wings.

Britain raised an eyebrow, “you’re still injured, aren't you?” he weakly nodded his head. Britain sighed, reaching out a hand to help him up. 

“Wher-?” Everyone looked to East, curled quietly into West, “-where are we going to go, are we ever going to see papa again?”

“We’ll figure out what we’ll do with you back at the allies base and probably not,” Britain waved his hand, West tensed up.

America slapped him in the back of his head, “how are you this bad with children!?” 

Britain glared at him, rubbing the back of the head, “what? I’m being honest, they’re old enough to handle it, this is war, America.” 

Poland shook his head, worry for the twins weighing him down, “it’s late, let’s get somewhere they can sleep.”


	36. Chapter 36

New England twitched awkwardly as a maid fiddled around with his clothing.  
“There, my young lord. It’s finished.” New England glanced up at the mirror, one of his hands subconsciously raised to his eye. The maid caught it.  
“Careful, you don't wish to ruin your face.”  
“I wouldn't mind it actually.” The maid shook her head, scoffing, a reaction she wouldn't dare around anyone else.   
“Your father would have my head if it doesn't even make it to the hallway,” she scolded. New England chuckled.  
“Have you any idea of the ball tonight?” The maid sighed.  
“No, my lord, but there have been rumours of other empire’s rulers being invited.” New England stepped off the highrise, struggling to keep his posture. He gave his thanks to the maid, moving off to find his father.  
He considered himself, he had never really taken an interest in leaders and he pretty much avoided anything to do with other Europeans but deep down he hoped the other colonies would be there, maybe they had been to the New World.  
New England took a breath, he knocked on the door.  
“Come in.”  
He pushed open the door, his father always insisted on doing his own dress-up, he didn't trust anyone else.  
“I see you are dressed as a proper young man for once.” New England closed the door.  
“What is the reason for the ball tonight?”   
Britain let out a groan, “I wish I knew the reason as well but his majesty is… guarding his secrets well.”   
“I’ve heard that other empires will be there?”  
“You’ve been mingling with the maids again but yes, the royal classes of the Spanish and French will be there?”  
“I relate to them more. Will others like us be there as well?”  
“Yes, and from what I heard, the colonies are coming.” New England couldn't keep a smile off his face. “And how can you relate to the maids more? You are the son of the greatest empire ever to grace earth and you should act like it.”  
“Maybe I would if I actually saw the land that was mine.” The look his father gave to him told him what he was going to say.  
“You need to show more respect, New England. You speak to me like that and before you know it you’ll be talking to the king like that.” Britain leaned in close to his ear. “And the land you speak of is not yours, it is mine, you belong to me and the only reason you are here is that it is too far for me to connect to comfortably.” He grabbed his wrist. “Never forget that, British America.”   
He pushed himself up, gesturing for New England to follow as he walked towards the door, he repressed his urge to argue and trailed after him.  
“New Spain is quite the pretty young lady, I expect you ask her to dance, perhaps we can end this war early.”  
The colony gave him a questionable look. “You’re marrying me off rather early.”  
Britain smirked, “you say that like I expect you to last more than a year.”  
New England hated politics.  
The young colony sat farther back in the room, he was glad that his father wasn't parading him around like a show pony for once. He scanned the room, his eyes falling on what was undoubtedly a beautiful girl with skin much to tan to be English. He began to approach her. She looked quite a bit older than him but ages were hard to tell in colonies. New England searched for any knowledge on spanish.  
“Hola señorita-” she turned to him. He was taken aback by her height, nearly losing his composure.  
“Hello, you’re the English New World colony right?” He was relieved that she spoke English.  
“Ah, yes I’m New England.”  
“And I’m-”  
“New Spain, right?” She nodded. The younger reached out his hand. “May I have this dance?”   
New Spain slipped a gloved hand into his, the smooth silk running over his bare hands.  
“You don't wear gloves?” he shrugged.  
“It’s bothering to me and no, my father does not know.” The colony winked, pulling her closer. New Spain gave a light chuckle as New England barely reached her chin. He pretended his pride wasn't hurt.  
The two started as the next song started up, moving around the room.  
“You know our fathers are at war?” New Spain asked as she spun around.  
He rolled his eyes, “When are they not at war?”   
“¡ey! Sometimes they're at war with the French it’s not always each other.”  
“Have you met the French New World Colony?” New England questioned.  
“No, why would I want to.” He chuckled.  
“Alas the French are rather prissy but I still haven't seen him yet. I simply wonder where he is, wouldn't it be nice for us to all have a connection?”  
“Are you implying we band together?”   
“And then stand up and overthrow our founders, perhaps?” He said half-jokingly.  
The song ended, the two exchanged their bows and were about part when a cough came from under a table. A look was shared between the colonies. After a quick look around the room to make sure no one was looking, they bent down to take a peek.  
New England made eye contact with a boy that looked about the age of New Spain with a bread roll halfway in his mouth.   
“...bonjour?” The shorter colony looked at New Spain for an answer who looked just as confused. “Are you coming under because we’re all in a predicament if you two are seen?” The new colony said, taking another bite of the roll.  
“I’m not crawling under a table.” New Spain looked back at New England. A thought crossed his mind.  
“oh, I know a place we can go!” he offered. The other two nodded their heads, following after him.  
The three carefully slipped out of the large room into the wide empty hallways, now free to be louder.  
“So, your New France right?” the Francophone nodded.  
“Oui, and let me guess. New England and New Spain?” He asked a bit sarcastically.   
New England was silent for a moment. “Our names aren't exactly original, are they?”   
New Spain rolled her eyes. “si, Europeans are pretty dim-witted.”  
He paused, “we’re… not Europeans?”  
The other two gave them a strange look. “No, we’re americano.”   
“At least your father named you after your aunt and not just himself.” New France stated.   
“Actually, he calls me British America just as often, I don't think he could help himself.” New England took a sudden turn as the others laughed.   
“Alright,” New Spain raised her hands, “let’s all make a vow to not name something after ourselves, we all need to have some creativity.”   
“être d'accord.” New France agreed.   
The youngest colony heaved open a window. “Can you two climb?”   
“Ah-” She reached behind her back, “can one of you help out of my gown?”  
“You have something under it right!?” New England squeaked out as New France undid the back of her dress.  
“por supuesto, of course!” the front of her gown dropped to the floor, leaving her in a simple white undergarment. “There I’ll be able to do it now.”  
He led the trio onto the balcony, he launched himself over the edge, grabbing a hold, he began hauling himself upward. New France followed quickly, New Spain legged behind a bit.  
New England sat himself up on one of the ledges, high enough to overlook the ocean. He ripped off his wig as the other colonies got comfortable beside him. New France pulled out a couple of custard pastries, tossing two to the youngest and the oldest colonies. New Spain took a bite, getting the cream on her face.   
“Where did you get these?” New England questioned.  
The older boy shrugged. “Did you know that the English kitchens are a lot easier to raid than the French kitchens?”   
His face grew concerned. “You stole these?!”  
“Oui? Maman told me you don't have to respect the English if you don't want to.” He took a bite of pastry. New England looked away from his friend.  
“So, what are we to do now? Start a harem?” New Spain spoke, drawing her attention to the moon.  
New France scoffed. “What’s a harem?” He looked in between the older colonies. This only made New France laugh.  
New England began yelling at him to stop and explain, causing him to laugh harder. The girl watching the interaction take place with interest. She turned her eyes back to the sea.  
“Just to think…” New England let go of New France’s shirt as she spoke. “Our land is somewhere across this water, a place to call home, a place to feel safe.”  
“Do you really think it will feel that different from here?” New England's hope of getting information out of the other two fizzled away.  
He stood. “I think it will, everything will feel right, it’ll make sense because it will be us. The three of us... Together.” He flashed them a smile.  
The other two returned it, beginning to fall for the youngest one.


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what AU is this? I don't fuccing know, you tell me

Canada shuffled down the halls of a building he had never been before. Britain had requested… no more demanded that he travel here immediately. The small hallways were darker than they should have been. All of Canada’s alarms had been set off.

He turned the corner to see an all consuming light stretching out the end. Canada was temporarily blinded as he entered the room, his eyes slowly adjusted to the white. The room was giant, the ceiling reaching far above him. The center of the room held a large throne-like- no a throne, shining brightly of gold and red, it sat upon three steps of golden.

In front of the throne stood Britain, facing away from the door, his old furs draped over his shoulders, dragging across the floor at his current height. 

Canada was about to speak up. “What fuck is all this!” Someone else beat him to it. Australia just entered the room followed shortly by New Zealand. He gave a quick glance around, also seeing India and America sliding in through another door.

Britain finally turned, an off putting smile stretched across his face. “My colonies!” he greeted the four, throwing open his arms. “I’m so glad you could join me for tonight!”

Canada met India’s eyes, echoing his confusion. “I’m sorry, what?!” America stepped closer to the throne. Britain raised his eyebrows amusedly. “I don't know what the hell happened but you appear to be off your rocker, old man.”

Britain clicked his tongue, before suddenly shoving his staff into America’s chest. He dropped hard on his side, grunting in pain. 

“Don't approach me, boy.” He looked away from America as he tried to stand. His eyes peering over the room at the panicky confused faces that met him. 

“Bow.” He commanded.

Canada took a step in surprise. “Wha-?” Britain’s gaze snapped to him.

“Bow!” 

“What the bloody fuckin hell are you on about?!” Australia’s voice rose above murmuring that broke out.

Canada remained silent under Britain's intense gaze, a look he hadn't seen in decades. His legs trembled, they felt like they were getting weaker, he was afraid. Canada dropped to a knee, his head bowed down to the ground. He could imagine the smirk painted across Britain’s face boring into his skull.

“You gotta be kidding!” He heard his brother scoffing. The sound of metal dragging against the ground seemed to drown out all other noise, muffling all Canada's senses as he guessed what would happen next. A breeze of wind brushed against him as the inked black slammed past him, barely missing him. His breath hitched in his throat as a scream ripped through the air. He couldn't look up, he just couldn't. Canada was forcing himself to breath. He let soft whimpers as the yelling continued. 

Finally, there was only silence and Canada hyperventilating. He didn't want to know what the room looked like, or if anyone else were alive. Every second past painfully slowly. He didn't know what he was supposed to do now, get up, stay down, turn and leave. He kept his eyes squeezed shut.

Canada aggressively flinched back as he felt Britain’s hand rest on his head, brushing down it gently, he brought a hand to his mouth to stop himself from whimpering again.

“I knew I could rely on you to be loyal, Canada.” He nodded hesitantly, feeling tears beginning to gather in his eyes.


	38. I have changed... haven't I?

The burn in Britain bones couldn't be ignored, even as his greatest enemy should above him, with a gleam in her eye. He was in panic mode, on the verge of begging for his life, only his pride and the knowledge that it would do nothing stopped him. 

Britain shut his eyes as the blade came down, piercing deep into his chest, whispering of the genocide of his people, the destruction of his kingdom that it would bring as his blood soaked out, feeding the grass and dirt. 

This was it, the last thing Britain would see was France’s glowing smirk as she mumbled goodbyes in fake mournful sweetness.

The english man forced himself up on the soft covers, a hand clutched over the ancient scar in the center of his chest. His heavy breaths permeated the room. He swore the centuries old ache still held in his arms and legs.

“...Bloody hell...” the words spilled slowly and without meaning. Britain could feel his high coming down as he remembered where he was, and when he was.

The man knew better than to try and return to sleep, he’d either be thrown back into that nightmarish hellscape or stave sleep away with fear of his old enemy breaking down his walls and piercing his heart once more.

“You are allies, Britain, there is no point in fear!” He knew logic would not deter his panic as he rose and approached the stairs but he had to try, problems that did not bow to reason boiled his blood.

A strange apathy settled over him as he put on the kettle, an apathy he didn't bother exploring. He just wanted his tea, 12:04 was too late to do anything important and too early to have any life changing realizations.

He was about to check his kettle when a far too familiar growling caught his attention. Britains eyes laid rest on the shining scales that decorated his sister’s face, her long, light and willowy form perfectly made to be carried off by the wings folded neated on her back. She seemed to almost glitter in even the weak light of the night, Britain’s eyes catching glints of every shade of red imaginable.

“A bit of a late night, Britain…” the LEDs in her chest piece lit up as it spoke for her, flashing green in the poorly lit kitchen. “Couldn't sleep?” She cocked her head to the side in question, it was strange to see a creature talk without moving it’s lips, no matter how long she had the communication device.

“Yeah.” He responded simply.

“Nightmares?” The glow was as quiet as the question.

He gave a slow nod, letting his proper and professional face drop. It was midnight and Britain was with family, no point in exhausting himself to keep up appearances.

Wales’ eyes softened at the small gesture, she made her way over to the larger chair before hopping on top and relaxing into it, a show that she planned on staying. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Britain recognized a certain level of rhetoricalness to the question. Wales knew every recurring nightmare Britain had and a new one would be much more cause of alarm than a late night tea.

“Hundred years war I believe. Though, there were quite a few where France slabbed me in the chest so…” 

A small bit of awkward silence hung in the air before Wales couldn't take it.

“How do you act so normal around her?” It sounded more like an accusation than a question. “You still get nervous around Germany and she’s not even the same one!”

“...It was a mutual hatred… and a couple centuries ago?” Britain was too surprised by the outburst to properly question it.

“You two killed each other… multiple times? You don't think you should be more concerned?”

“Honestly?” Britain leaned back on the counter, “I don't care enough…” 

The dragon’s head perked up, she let out a sound that approximately sounded like a chuckle. “you… don't have an opinion on something? You never not have an opinion.”

“Wales…” He said a little too quietly.

“You have opinions on things that no one asked you to have opinions on. You have opinions on things you have no right to.” 

“Wales.” He said more sternly.

“Are you getting old, is that it? Should we set up a bingo night with Egypt and China-?!”

“Wales! That’s enough!” Britain threw his hand back, swiping it behind himself before realising he didn't he have his staff.

Wales stood silent for a moment, her eyes searching him in confusion before an understanding dawned on her face. 

“You just tried to shut me up.” She stared down at him before jumping down, quickly approaching him. “You tried to turn it off, didn't you!?”

“Wales I-” Britain was normally thankful for his sister’s much more human eyes compared to the rest of her but at the moment, they seemed to tear into him. Her long neck putting them on the same level.

Her teeth bared quietly, “of course. Of course you would! You never change. Little Brother Britain! Always have to be in control, the only thing stopping you is your lack of power!” 

She took a few steps back, recollecting herself. “You tried to turn me back to an animal without a second thought,” She said, uncomfortably calmly before turning tail and stocking away, leaving Britain with the agony of his own thoughts.

Of course he had changed, he wasn't anything similar to the ruthless colonizer he once was… he couldn't be, he can't be. The wall of denial didn't stop the thoughts slowly leaking through, reminding him of what he did, what he is. If he hurts even the people closest to him, then what is being evil for. 

For himself of course! Britain the selfish evil creature, who abuses the people closest to him, who is only stopped from hurting others by inability, who long outlived his usefulness, who doesn't have any right to continue to live, who should just let himself rot away in a deep cave, who should just die-!

The sound of the kettle going off brought the English man back to sanity, becoming all too aware of the streak of tears making their way down his face and the heavy breathing the border on hyperventilating. 

He turned off the kettle, he had lost his taste for tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Wales has some issues about being unable to speak and get very defensive when that ability is threatened. Maybe I'll go into more details in future fics


	39. Antarctica

A mirage, that’s what it had to be. A woman stood in the snow blowing around her, nearly obscuring her from view. Her clothing was layered heavily but her face was bare, yet she didn't seem bothered. Her hair tore back in forth in the wind, the long strands of white battling to escape the braid. The hair was long enough to almost camouflage her from view.

She turned, jumping back as she noticed the men. Her eyes as clear as ice, blank yet shining brightly. A moment of surprise registering on her face before she began to back away.

She ran, disappearing into the blizzard.

“Should we follow her?” The man snapped out of his trance at the voice of his colleague.

“No, her footprints will be gone within the hour… This is going to be one hell of a report…”   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

America stretched back in his chair, he checked with the other countries and at this point, there was barely a doubt. An unidentified woman that no country claimed with strange eyes an ability to survive negative temperatures in the triple digits.

America had considered that Antarctica would have a representative eventually, but so soon was… stumping, to say the least, she wouldn’t have a citizen to her name. America pushed the thoughts from his mind, it didn't matter now. 

The nation picked up the landline to his right. “Hey, Greenland-?”  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The continent dropped behind a large mound of ice and snow, sheltering herself from the raging snowstorm slightly. She stared blankly out into the surrounding white, Antarctica herself barely changing the palette of the landscape. 

She shouldn't have ran, that was clear enough. She finally saw something that resembled herself, something who could finally tell her what she was, why she was. Antarctica wasn't ready for that, she didn't when she would be but it wasn't now. 

She never had energy, she barely moved outside of hunting and gathering, but at the moment, getting up was a distant hope. Why should she, Antarctica couldn't die, she knew that well enough. 

The only thing that pushed the continent forward was the fear of getting trapped in a cycle, too exhausted to hunt anything due to lack of food. The memories made her blood run colder. She had only really felt warm once when she managed a small fire from blubber, it didn't last long but the feeling gave her hope, hope that there was something outside her world of white and blue.   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You’re serious?” Greenland asked rather blankly.

“Yup, from what we can tell from her first reaction, this might not be as clean as it could be, so I want a country there and you can stand the climate.”

“And you’re sure this woman is Antarctica?” Greenland paused for a moment. “And why me, why not Canada or some other underling of yours.”

“Well there’s no guarantee but it’s pretty obvious and you’ve got the lowest population and population density, so you would understand her best.”

After a heavy, drawn-out sigh, Greenland agreed before she turned and left, off to go pack a bag and prepare for the plane trip.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Fuck… Fuck!” The country’s eyes whipped around the area; she had lost sight of her teammates. Greenland’s footprints were already disappearing into the snow, there was no way she could make it back to the facility in time. She wasn't new to extreme temperatures but a night in the south pole sent a shiver of fear down her spine.

The island pushed through the blizzard, having no idea what kind of shelter she could find in the snowy and icy wasteland. She could barely see a few feet in front of her. She suddenly lost her footing, yelping as she collapsed down a couple of feet.

Greenland shook her head, trying to get the dizziness out of her head. Her eyes widened as she realized she was being dragged across the snow. She panicked and began to flail.

“Stop!” An unfamiliar sharp tone hissed out beside her ear. Greenland froze.

“I-I can walk, let me go.” She felt the grip loosening, using the juncture to pull away. Greenland quickly rose to her feet; laying eyes on her captor. She let out a silent gasp as she recognized her from the description, long snow-white hair and blank eyes that glistened like ice.

“You can speak my language?” the other’s voice held disbelief, yet her face barely changed. 

“Of course-” An aggressive gust of wind raged against the air, sending a chill directly into Greenland’s bones.

“Come, the storm is still mad, we must give it time.” She hesitantly followed the taller. The pair quickly came across what looked like a polar bear's den, watching as she disappeared into the gap.

The island dropped down, entering into a large chamber; noticing the continent crouched near an elephant seal carcass. A knife sliding cleanly through the tough blubber.

Greenland sat crossed-legged on one of the skins covering the ground, wondering why there wasn't a fire pit. 

“Hey, pass me some blubber.” Antarctica glanced back nervously before tossing a large slice back. She began creating a fire pit around in the center of the room, moving the furs around. 

Greenland started explaining the least edible parts she could use. The taller stared blankly at first before awkwardly nodding along. 

She finished up, pulling out her lighter, desperately wanting a break from the aching cold. After a few flicks she got a meagre blaze going. Antarctica’s eyes laid wide and curious on the red and orange flames. 

“You’re… Antarctica? Right?” Greenland questioned slowly.

“Antarctica? Yeah, yes I am- my name is Antarctica.” She didn't tear her eyes away from the heat.

“How long have you been here?”

“A hundred and thirty heat cycles.” Antarctica pressed her lips into a thin line. “Where is your home? I thought I had every piece of this land mapped out yet I never found you… or anything like you.” 

“I don't live here… on this continent.” Greenland shuffled around, despite the bland tone, she could help but catch a undering lying somberness to what the other said. “Have you ever met another human being?”

Antarctica finally drew her eyes away from the fire. “I’ve never seen anything that even resembles me-”

“-For the last a hundred thirty you’ve been alone.” Greenland barely registered the fact that she had cut off the other as she put two and two together. 

Antarctica solemnly nodded. 

The island acted on instinct as she pulled off a glove and reached out a hand.

The southerner breath hitched in her throat as fingers brushed her cheek; Greenland had lower body temperature than most but it seemed to burn against her skin, an entirely different heat to the fire, focused, intense, concentrated. No fur, blubber or cloth separating them, just soft smooth skin that burned against her own.

Antarctica grasped the hand against her cheek, Greenland flinched back at the sudden movement. The continent couldn't truly remember the last time she had cried, it was a waste of water but the tears still flowed in this moment.

She wrapped her arms around the shorter, pulling her closer. Antarctica buried her head in Greenland’s shoulder as she yelped out. 

“Don't leave me here again… I want to stay with the fire… and you.” 

The island wasn't sure how she was supposed to deal with this, only being able to rub the other’s back and whisper quietly in her ear.

“Don't worry, I won't.”  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Antarctica sat quietly in the back of the meeting room, she doubted that many even knew she was there, it’s not like she spoke at all. There was no point, the only things the others ever spoke about were the humans, just another species on the planet and one the white-haired wasn't particularly fond of after the last few decades. 

Her eyes rested on Greenland, a smile tugging at her lips, at least they’ve done one good thing.


	40. a Preteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yeah this is probably the same canon of chapter 9 & 10, who knows

America wasn't sleeping, there was no way in hell he was sleeping. By all means, this should be the best sleep of his life or at least in the last six years. He should have expected this, he should have known that there would have been complications. This wasn't the complication he thought he’d be dealing with.

Re-establishing Germany properly? Ensuring world peace? Dealing with the ramifications of multiple genocides and death from the deadliest war in history? 

He had been preparing himself to handle all of that.

He had been preparing himself so much that he barely gave thought to what they would do with the representative of the German Reich. That seemed like the simplest problem. It was clear to everyone.

The allies would break into the bunker, with the insane leader gone there was barely anything holding Germany together. They would find him, he would put up a fight but be taken out by Soviet or America. Then, he’d be put on trial and sentenced to the death penalty for extreme crimes against humanity. 

What actually happened shouldn't have been to so much of a surprise, any knowledge on the working of countries should have told him what was going to happen and yet, breaking into the bunker of Nazi Germany only to find a preteen in a poorly fitted uniform cowering in a corner, floored every ally nonetheless. 

America pushed himself up from his bed, deciding to go for a short walk through the building to clear his head or at least give himself something to do.

He had been walking for around ten minutes, going in circles. Finally coming down the hallway he had been avoiding. He paused at the door, America had suggested keeping Third in a cell, only for him to prove much too capable yet unstable for something that open. Leaving the twelve-year-old cuffed to a chair for the night.

The nation unlocked the door, getting hit with the smell of iron. He stepped over to the table, hearing light grunts.

“Couldn't sleep either?” Third paused, his eyes slowly rolling up to meet America’s.

“What are you doing here?” The kid hissed out in a desperate attempt to sound threatening. The sound of jangling echoed out as he pulled again the metal. America glanced around the other’s back, Third making a few sounds of protest, trying to pull away from him.

The taller rested a hand on his shoulder. “Relax soldier.” He picked up the younger’s arms, examining his wrists as softly as he could. Multiple red marks, bruises and some bleeding wounds. He sighed, doing his best to clean up the injuries.

“Let go of me!” Third fought America’s grip.

The taller rolled his eyes, “I’m trying to help, stop fighting.” 

The other stalled for a second, flinching as one of his cuts was passed over. “...why?”

“So your injuries don't get infected,” he used the small window of stillness to finish up. “I know you’re young but surely you know that.” 

“I’m not that young…” Third mumbled to himself. “You never answered my question, why are you here? We’re enemies, you should be secretly tormenting me.”

America sat back in one of the chairs. “I don't honestly know, you’re making this really hard for us.” The nation massaged his face, “or at least hard for me.”

“How am I making this hard? You won, I lost, you get to do whatever you want to me.”

“I see that but I’m not in the business of killing children…”

Third let out a deep growl. “Then don't treat me like a child!” He threw himself up as far as he could. “Use my word now as proof; I stand beside everything my country under my leader’s rule, and put me on trial-”

“So you have a death wish.” The two countries’ eyes met, surprise unhidden in the younger’s, America’s, dark, humourless for the first time.

“Nein, of course not-” He spoke in disbelief.

“Do you really think any trial you could be put on wouldn’t sentence you to death for your war crimes, especially after the claim you just made.” America got back a fake amusement. “Do you even know what the hell you just claimed? What your leader has done?” 

“I-I… nein, not everything b-but I would trust him with my life-!”

“You already have and look where that got you,” America stated blankly.

Silence, Third sat back down as no sound was made by either until soft sniffles became audible.

“This wasn't how it was supposed to go…” Third’s voice came out shaky. “This wasn't- I didn't- I just didn't want to see my people suffer anymore, he was my only hope. I had to get us out of the debt. I-I…”

His speech became unintelligible as sobs continued to take over. The older was panicking a little, trying to decide what to do. He glanced quickly at the door. He mumbled a goddamnit to himself. He wasn't going to let a child cry alone.

America held the younger gently, pushing him into his chest. “Shush, calm down…” 

Third got quieter, surprisingly not pulling away from him. “...p-please don't kill me…” The taller paused. He reached a hand behind Third, uncuffing him. America pulled back, holding both of the other’s wrists.

“Look, Reich. You’ve done a lot of shit-” The younger’s eyes downcast, “-but I’ll do my best. Everyone’s got a conscience.” He walked back behind him, carefully re-cuffing him. “I can’t see anyone condemning someone who was six when this who thing started to hell.” 

“That’s not any guarantee…” Third mumbled.

“I can’t guarantee anything, I’m not the worst victim, I won’t get the final decision.” 

America wasn't even sure who would.


	41. preteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> allies are unsure, and Soviet and America's relationship began to crack

The American was the first one in the meeting room, which was understandable due to the state the Europeans were in. They had agreed to keep leaders out of the meeting for the first time since the start of the war, there would have been too much to explain.

The doors swung open, Canada stepped in, looking as stoic as ever. Australia and New Zealand followed, neither of them bothering to hide their annoyance. The three took their seats on the other side of the room, the participation trophy table. He could understand their frustration, everyone knew they weren't actually going to be included in the discussion.

France entered around twenty minutes later. He had cleaned up considerably from the last time America had seen him. Through his eyes were still glazed in exhaustion. He took a seat beside the American.

“I’m not going to be ready for world war three in the next twenty years.” France rested his head in his hands.

“We’re not even done with world war two, you might want to slow down.” He chuckled dryly. 

Soviet was the next to slide inside the room, followed by a couple of South Americans that had joined the war late. A question tickled the back of America’s tongue, he bit it back, it wasn't the time. 

Britain and Italy walked in together. Italy rather sheepishly sat down beside America, Britain sitting in between France and Soviet.

“If this was any other war we would be celebrating our victory right now.” The Britannian commented into the silence. Exhaustion weighed heavily in the room, muffling everything. They were all tired, all wanted to just move on but yet, they couldn't.

“So… We’re going to let Japan rebuild itself?” France got the discussion started first.

“After the bombs, there’s no point in adding more, we made our point and some small territories are still refusing to admit surrender.”

Soviet crossed his arms, letting out a frustrated sigh. “Well then, I guess we are moving right on to the topic of Germaniya.” 

France raised an eyebrow. “The Representative or the country?”

Britain scoffed. “The country please… let's do something simple first-”

“-Poland.” America interrupted. “We should wait for Poland? If anyone should have a choice in this matter it’s him.” 

“What would he care?” Italy spoke quietly. “He’s not here now. So surely he has something more important to attend to.”

France’s voice came out smoothly, almost sounding practiced. “We set up spears of influence, like Japan but stronger. Occupation zones”

“That’s it?” Britain hissed at her ally. “After everything he did?!”

“What do you suggest?! Set up another Treaty Of Versailles and deal with world war three in a couple of decades that wipes out half of the earth's population!” She recoiled a little, considering France’s words. “I doubt any of us would have the heart to fight that.”

“So what, you’ll just surrender even earlier next time?” Soviet joked, miserably failing to lighten the tone.

“Tais-toi boy, you’re the one that came crawling for our support after being outsmarted by a child, bien que, you were also a child at that time so how much can we expect.”

“Stay on track please, whatever European drama y’all have needs to be kept out of this agreement.” He received a few nods, as well as a few scowls “I agree with France, we divide Germany between the four of us. We’re not making the mistake of leaving it alone and assuming it would be fine again.”

Britain rolled her eyes at the pride France wore. “Don't get too smug yet, we’ll need to run the plan by each of our leaders.” She let out a soft sigh. “Now… The Third Reich-”

“-How did either of you not know he was twelve?!” Italy and Soviet exchanged a glance at America’s tone.

“I only ever spoke with him through letters, he was...” Soviet’s eye narrowed in effort. “How you say, articulate, I never suspected anything.”

“Of course I knew he was twelve, I was his babysitter whenever the political stuff started back when he was younger.” Italy shrunk back at the looks thrown her way. “I didn't think it mattered.”

“Let’s not be too hasty, mon fils.” France ignored the glare he got from Britain. “By all means, we’re all at fault from being unaware of what we were dealing with… people starting their life as children isn't a new concept.”

Soviet grunted, “There’s still the issue of what we’re going to do with him.”

Britain’s voice came out strained, almost soft, lacking its normal forceful input. “If we’re still planning on… the death penalty, we have to make the decision soon. He won’t be killable for much longer.” 

“How long do we have?” America gave the Russian a strange look. How long did he think this process was going to take?

France answered the question. “I have to check in with China but I guess five days to two weeks. After a war this devastating, it will take a bit for Germany to get back on its feet enough to establish a connection with its representative.”

“Nevermind how large of a range that is, there’s still the issue that if the corpse is available when the connection there’s still a chance it’ll come back.” The American had forgotten Italy was an older one. “That gives us what… three days if we’re being on the safe side. 

The sound of Soviet’s fingers tapping against the table seemed louder than any other noise. “Three days to decide what to do with the murdering of millions…” His eye found the American’s. “You’ve been rather quiet, comrade, any ideas?”

America breathed in a steadying sigh. “I…” His mind wandered back to the small boy tied to a chair and begging for his life, trying to stand up for both the pride of his people and his own want for survival. “...I think he’s salvageable.”

Britain was the first to respond. “...As in-?”

“reduction, maybe even reintroduction a couple of decades down the line. With the Occupation zones, we’ll be acting as representatives.”

“You want to give him power after-!”

“Italy dear, please…” France placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “America… I understand how you get around children but I’m not sure if this is the best time-”

“It’s not that! it’s not only that…” America snapped. “I just… I had a talk with him last night-”

“-Without consulting anyone-?” He ignored Britain's hissed question.

“-he didn't even know what was happening outside Berlin, I doubt he even knows about the extremist ideas he represents nevermind agrees with them.”

“Did he say anything else?” Soviet’s voice echoed suspicion.

America stayed silent, replaying the confession Third had made. “...No, nothing of importance.” 

Britain groaned. “As much as I hate to admit it, America’s… mostly right… he’s the representative of Germany, not Heir Hitler nor his ideas.” Her next words were experienced. “We’ve all had leaders that would have guaranteed our condemnation, just because he’s only had one doesn't change anything.”

Soviet growled back, “and yet, we’ve still had to take responsibility for their actions, why is this any different?”

“Because he’s fucking twelve!” America hosted himself back up. “Do you expect him to start a revolution at six?!”

“I did!” He hissed back, also standing.

“That is enough, children!” France joined the two standing. “We have three days and we’re not getting anywhere now. We’ll reconvene soon, contact whoever you want in that time.”

America pushed hard off the table, gesturing to himself then Soviet. “A hundred and sixty-nine, twenty-three… don't put us on the same level.”

He stormed away, each of their words still so loud in his head.

He needed to clear his head, he needed to speak to Third again. America's thoughts were interrupted as he bumped briefly into Poland outside of the german’s room. 

“I-I... sorry!” Poland quietly sputtered out. America paused at the panic that briefly fluttered across the other’s face; before he could ask if he’s alright, Poland pulled away and ran. Strange… America’s eyes turned back to the German room’s door.


	42. Chapter 42

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Britain... kinda knows how to child

Britain tapped the wall beside him, matching each tap with his steps. It had been nearly a week since he had acquired the new colony, he hadn't interacted with the boy since he had picked him up from France. 

Britain told himself it was to let Canada acclimate to his new environment. He stood in front of the room he gave to his colony like he had so many times before, debating to step inside. Maybe he should just send him to live in British America but he didn't want the potentially mutinous boy too far out of his sight.

The empire laughed weakly to himself, he really was scared of a tiny French colony. Britain didn't knock, he didn't need to knock, he shouldn't knock; he won't coddle him something he owns.

Britain turned the knob, he was about to open when a soft sound caught his attention. Sobs, a quiet, delicate noise, much like the colony himself. He was crying? Britain had a lot of strong suits, emotions were not one of them. Every bone in his body screamed at him to leave, to let Canada figure it out on his own. 

Then a small part of him called back to his own colony, he gave him too much space, let him get too comfortable doing everything on his own much too young. Canada is now his colony, now his problem… now his son. 

The door pushed open before Britain even knew what he was doing. Canada sat on the edge of the bed, his face buried in a beaver-tail hat. His whole body trembled as he let out more sniffles.

Britain cleared his throat. The boy’s head snapped up, fear clear as day. 

Britain's first instinct was to speak to him in his colony’s native language, he suppressed it, he wasn't going to openly show that he felt bad for him. “I went through all your bags, how did you get that?”

Canada hugged his legs further around the hat as if scared to lose it. “Je- I snuck it in with me, dés- sorry…”

The empire raised an eyebrow. “Impressive.” He was skirting around asking why he was crying. Canada’s eyes were wide enough for the new British stripes in his visible eye to be noticeable. Britain sat down beside him, the boy unconsciously leaning away from him. He took Canada’s chin in one of his hands, pulling his face up to his. 

“I see your body is accustomed to the change well.” He purposely avoided the word ‘you,’ it was obvious he wasn't. The empire’s other hand hovered around the swathe, one of the maids must have been replacing them. He tilted his head slightly, struck by a bit of curiosity.

Canada instinctively flinched back, his entire body tensing. “Shush, relax, I’m not going to hurt you…” He muttered directly into his ear. The bandages came undone easily, he pulled it away. The cut had scabbed over, an obvious sign that it was going to scar. 

His eyes hardened automatically as he noticed the eye itself. The original dark blue had changed to a comfortable deep red, reflecting his new flag yet the golden fleur de lis still sat on top his pupil, now a bright white.

“You stubborn bastard.” The insult towards France slipped out, sparking a bit of panic on his colony’s face. “I don’t mean you, it’s alright.” He quickly backtracked. Britain moved away from him, watching the other’s body visibly loosen. 

He stood in front of the bookshelf in the room, pulling out Romeo and Juliet. When Shakespeare had told him that he was writing it he assumed it would be a comedy, to think that two people raised to be enemies could fall in love. 

“Have you read anything from here yet, what kind of books do you enjoy?” He turned back to Canada, summoning forward his staff to lean on. 

“I’m not good at reading English.” He was avoiding eye contact, his face turning a little red.

“You can speak it quite well?” Britain's eyes narrowed a bit.

“Speak not read… papa- France didn't think that I’d need it so soon.” 

The empire looked in between the leather-bound and the colony. Maybe this was his chance. He sat back down, opening the writing. He laid an arm around Canada, pulling him right up against his side. The boy didn't resist yet didn't look comfortable at all, just confused. 

Britain opened the book, guiding Canada’s hand to hold the cover. “Go ahead,” he said as softly as he could. The boy let out a quiet sigh. 

“...o-oh... Two households, both alike in dig-nit-?” He was obviously trying to force down his accent.

“Dignity.” He kept his voice as flat as possible, Canada was embarrassed enough.

He nodded before continuing. “-Dignity, In fair V-”

“-Verona.” The colony looked up at him. “Names can be hard, I don’t expect you to know,” He explained. 

“Verona, where we lay our scene, From ank-cient grudge break to new mute-ie-ny-?” Canada was quiet for a second. “Mutiny. Where ce-vil blood makes ce-vil hands unclean.” 

“You’re doing well but I do have a meeting soon.” Britain stood, placing the book on the nightstand. It wasn't a direct lie but he also wanted to get something to cover Canada's eye, both the scar and the sighs of his french heritage. “We’ll continue this another day, you’ll get better when the English start to settle.”

The other’s mouth opened but no sound came out at first, it stayed ajar as his eyebrows furrowed in thought.

“Just say it in french.” 

“Merci bien sur.”


	43. Chapter 43

New England’s room was filled with the sound of a scratching quil, the candle beside him just barely giving him enough light to see what he was writing. A light autumn breeze came in from the open window beside him, threatening to blow out his candle. 

He stretched his arms behind him, listening to the pops and cracks as his back straightened out. He rubbed his eyes as he yawned. Britain would probably be furious if he knew he was up this late, that was the only reason the colony was still awake yet the pure quiet of his surroundings was just as calming as it was unsettling.

The quiet was interrupted as loud steps thudded past his door. New England immediately stood up, his curiosity peaked. He quickly followed the noise out the door, seeing a person disappearing around the corner.

A smirk tugged at his lips, well isn’t this interesting. He took off behind the other as quietly as he could. Each time he turned a corner one thing became more and more clear, the person he was following had no idea where they were going, they had gone in at least one circle. Eventually, the person seemed to notice this too, stopping beside a window.

“Nom de Dieu.” The boy hissed to himself, New England recognizing him as Canada. He was about to call out to him before he suddenly turned towards the window, pushing it open and beginning to climb out.

“Hey…?” He was about halfway out when turned to look at the other. 

“...oh uh greetings?” The silence stretched out in the awkwardness as Canada sat still on the window sill.

“Where… are you going?” He asked hesitantly.

“...out.” Canada’s entire body stood rather tense, glancing out the window multiple times.

America crossed his arms over his chest, bouncing from foot to foot. “You are aware we’re on the second floor… right?”

Canada got a look on his face before leaning to observe the outside. “Oh…” He finally completely slid onto the overhead. New England couldn't tell what he was staring so intensely at. Canada suddenly started undressing, removing his coat, boots until he was only in his trousers. 

“The river down there is deep eh?” He threw out casually, leaning over the edge.

A flash of panic crossed New England’s face. “The stairs are just a couple of halls down, you don't have to-” He was interrupted as Canada pushed off the overhead, diving into the water.

“Christ!” New England whispered to himself before running off to get down to meet Canada at the bottom.

Canada felt the water completely enclosed around his body, violent shivers running through him at the temperature change. He knew he would have to return to the surface soon to get his bearings to not get swept away in the current yet he stayed under for as long as possible. 

The colony carefully opened his eyes, looking up at the reflection of the moon sparkling through. The memory of the last time he had watched this sight arose in him. A smile tickled his lips as just for a moment, he pretended that just past the top of the water was Paris, outshining the moon itself in all its splendour.

A muffled voice caught his attention, he broke through the water surface, unable to stave away disappointment as the sight of Londen greeted him. 

“Oh thank the lord, I thought you drowned.” New England sighed in relief before sitting himself down on the river bank. Canada’s chuckled, paddling over to the shore. He rested his chin on his arms, letting his legs dangling in the current behind him. 

“Aren't you cold?” New England shivered in the wind alone.

“I don't get cold. Ever. Period. End of discussion” He stated blankly.

“Oh you just wait for your Frenchiness to wear off, then you'll have to deal with being mortal like the rest of us.” 

Canada very visibly flinched, his fingers digging into the dirt as his hands clenched. The emotions still all too fresh.

New England’s face dropped before placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Sorry… too soon?” 

He placed his hand over his eyes in a weak attempt to hide the tears gathering in his eyes. “Much too putain soon!” He couldn't hide the wavering in his voice. 

He tightened the grip on the colony’s shoulder as he watched him try to pull himself together before suddenly breaking down, hiding his face in his arms.

“Hey!” The colony panicked slightly before softening his tone. “Hey~” New England carefully pulled him up into his lap, the end of his feet still resting in the water. The colony rested his chin on the other’s shoulder, ignoring the freezing water soaking through his clothes.

“It’s… just so hard to be around... him- I can't help but see-” New England briefly called back, fighting New France only to watch the fear overtake his face as he suddenly took off in a desperate attempt to save his father, his scream ripping through the air just a moment later.

“I know… I know…” New England paused. “Is this why you came out here?” 

Canada gave a small nod. “At least the water and trees here are the same, I needed something to-” Another tremble shook his body.

“Come on.” The colony began helping his friend up. “It’s getting late, we should go back inside.”


	44. America x the sky

America unlocked the metal door, pulling it open as the New York cold caressed his exposed skin. He got to the edge of the roof in a few steps, the sounds of the city rising to meet his ears. His gaze focused on the sky, the ever-expansive void still almost incomprehensible even when dulled from the light below. 

He lit a cigarette, shivering gently. America briefly remembered the forest that used to grow here. America couldn't deny he could have been observing his New York yet his eyes still focused on the sky, he had watched it come and go for hundreds of years, it was practically his first friend.   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
America threw himself up in the branches of the largest tree he could find, walking as far from the trunk as the wood gave him support. He plopped himself down, his smile shining dimly in the moonlight. 

“Hello my old friend, I’m sorry it’s been a while.” He spoke up into the air.

The stars blinked, acknowledging that they heard him.

“I’m glad you’re here, we have so much to speak about! I’m not sure if you’ve been watching… I understand if you haven't, there are probably more important things to focus on but that’s not going to last too much longer!” America insisted. The stars blinked back their curiosity.

His smile brightened, excited to finally be allowed to rave about his achievements, finally allowed to be a child. 

“I’m going to be independent, as soon as Mr. Washington works out a treaty.” He could feel the pride shining down from the cool night. “I’m going to act on the world stage, I’m going to directe the world in a better light.”  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
America breathed out a puff of smoke, he truly used to speak to the sky like a friend… ridiculous. He mourned that ignorance, he now knew what the night was, he should have been happy. 

But he wasn't, he wanted for the sky to be omnipresent again, to always be there for him like it was when he was young. 

“Hey… old friend?” He felt as ridiculous as he was. “I know it’s been a… really long while, really fucking long while… but I don't know if you’ve been watching me- Jesus christ of course you haven’t, you’re not aliv…” America cut himself off, that’s not why he was doing this.

He took a deep breath. “A lot of stuff has changed, I’m… I am not really an underdog anymore, which is nice?” Was it? “Well at least you’re not a secret to me anymore, I know who you are just as much as you know me!” 

America chuckled a little. “Well, I guess I still don't know your name? But you haven't explored me so I think we’re even…” 

“I still can't believe I went to space, it seemed so impossible when we first started talking.” He watched the stars blink dimly, he tried to pretend they were speaking to him, maybe he could translate to morse code?  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
“...and you should have seen France fight! He was amazing!” The response he got was strangely smug. “Oh right… you probably already know him…” America laughed nervously. “He told me I reminded him of Rome, I don't know if he was just being nice or not?” The stars hummed their soft agreement.

America closed his eyes as a yawn overtook him, a breeze blowing through his light overcoat. “I should probably go home soon… Georg- Mr. Washington is probably worried for me.”

America realized he had just used the term home, the night sky didn't seem to be paying attention for the last couple of years. “Oh, yeah… Mr. Washington pretty much made me live with him, I can’t blame him, I was in a pretty bad spot when we met.” He licked his dry lips. “You should have seen his face when I told him I was older than him…” He snickered at the memory.

“You probably can't help me with this but… dad always said that we’re supposed to feel maternal to our people but-?” He shook his head. “I’m too tired to think about this…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

America dropped the cigarette butt, crushing it under his boot. “You know, that does give me some hope, maybe we could get off this planet before everything really goes to shit, at least I don't have to worry about you not following me, since you’re literally everywhere-” 

He went silent for a second, pulling out another smoke. “I… really don’t have to worry about that anyway, I doubt I’m going to be able to leave this planet...” 

America was alone by all common sense as let the soot disappear into the wind but he still felt like he should break the awkward tension. “...well, it’s nice to know I still fear death, I’d assumed that was gone after world war one, having such an effect on the world without even trying really makes you miss the days where you were struggling to even get someone to throw you a glance…” 

Does it? America had never been quiet about his nostalgia for his colony days but did he really prefer it over being a world superpower. He had remembered crawling and scratching for even a scrap of respect, fighting for a single nod of acknowledgement. Sure, he was on the opposite side of the spectre, where every decision made waves in the world, scrutinized by everyone. 

“But I think I do prefer it like that…” He finished off the thought out loud, the stars were smiling at his decision, he was sure of it. A true smile crossed his lips for the first time in years, it was nothing compared to the charisma he carried when he was young. It was much more dimed, much like the stars above him now. 

“Em…?” America was snapped out of his trance by a shy voice. “Sir? The… The Secretary of Health has requested your presence and uh-” The young women nervously glanced around. “Who were you talking to?” 

America inconspicuously wiped the unfallen tears, resetting his sunglasses in front of his eyes. “Ah, no one! don't worry about it!” He quickly took on his snake-oil smile.

He pushed past her, throwing out a thanks. “God, they were right, countries are that weird.” She mumbled under her breath.


End file.
